


Nothing Special

by AYangThang



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, F/M, Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, POV First Person, Polyamorous Character, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2019-09-19 21:41:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 61,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17009712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AYangThang/pseuds/AYangThang
Summary: Day in and day out, the best things in life and love aren't anything special, and that's what makes them great.





	1. Burning the Midnight Oil, Part 1/3: (Weiss POV)

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a “Bee’s Schnee” fiction, so that means a Weiss/Blake/Yang triad. Also, it’s A03 only, and will not be posted up on the FFN, because it’s explicit for a reason. Though, those romantic reasons don’t come around until a little later. More characters will be added as the need arises, but primarily it'll just be these three lovely ladies.
> 
> Short chapters, but plenty of them, each one from a different POV. Plus, this is something short and sweet I can write from the comfort of my kindle on long trips, which is not something I can do with my longer works (as that would be total a pain in the ass).
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

A grandfather clock that I absolutely loathe chimes twelve. The low ringing only shatters what little concentration I have left as I sit back in my chair and rub my eyes. It’s time to put my work away for the night. I should have put it away hours ago. With reluctance I save confidential files. The mundane task of closing out the rest of my programs and turning off the computer acts as only an afterthought. I lift my cold coffee to my lips. It’s been stale for hours, but the action is solidifying against my cynicism.

After everything has been sealed away, I grab the small key sitting at the corner of my desk and make my way out of the small office.

Upon the white stone flooring of my hallway, a single black sock lays forgotten. My eyes find its companion a few feet away, leaving no question as to how it had been abandoned. I lock my office door with a sigh before placing the key on a small brass hook. It's a ritual meant to partition off my working space with my household space. Once freed from the impossibly heavy burden of that blasted key, I can finally pick up the socks, and the subsequent train of clothing that follows it. The trail leads to the small living room that Blake claims as her own.

The sight in front of me isn’t unusual.

Our resident cat Faunus likes to be pinned against the open segment of wall between the bookcases. Our resident brawler gets a rise out of doing the pinning. I roll my eyes at the both of them. Yang’s really the only one strong enough to leverage either of us off of the ground without the use of our semblances. I could use my glyphs, and Blake has her clone, but Yang has never needed more than her desire to do so. There’s little finesse in the way her palms brace the wall, her hips keeping up a forceful pace that only Blake would be able to accept.

The strap-on is a thicker model than I would tolerate, sliding in and out of Blake in a frenzied pace that I just wouldn’t have the fortitude to take, even with my aura.

I can do no more than smirk as Blake’s reduced to a levitating puddle. Her arms and legs wrapped so securely around Yang that it’s a wonder the blonde can work any magic at all. Molten amber eyes gaze at me from over Yang’s shoulder, Blake’s ears pressed so flat on her head that it’s obviously not their first round. I offer a passing wave in her direction as I sit down in a leather armchair that’s placed right by the fireplace. My eyes watch their lovemaking with a repressed sort of interest.

There’s certainly nothing to dislike about the vision before me. It's quite pleasant. One might even call it beautiful. Each of Blake’s soft moans catch my ears. She’d never fancied being a spectacle for long, but in this case, she makes the accommodation. The tables have been turned plenty of times in the past. Although I don’t like watching such things nearly as much as she does, I do take comfort in knowing that my inclusion isn’t some sort of burden on the household.

Maintaining a peaceful home environment is a juggling act of the highest order. A paramount goal that we all share, to varying degrees of success. I watch as Blake reaches her peak, the orgasm itself seemingly a long time coming.

Though I’ve just gotten comfortable, I stand and make a beeline for the kitchen. Green tea, certainly not my favorite, has already been prepared in the pot. I retrieve three mugs, depositing liquid, I withhold another smirk as Yang passes by in the hallway. Blake's curled in her arms and that damned strap-on is still hanging from her hips as the lewd announcement that it is. I’d complain about Yang’s obvious lack of decency, but the brute hardly cares.

She's never had what I would consider a sense of modesty, at least, not when it comes to Blake and I.

If anything, she’s become more accustomed to walking around naked whenever she’s positive that it will catch my attention. She’s been banned from entering my study due to her charming, yet unabashed idiocy. We've broken several items due to her lurid ways. Gathering the mugs, I head to our bedroom where the king size bed has already been occupied by Blake. The sound of the water running in the adjoining bathroom means that Yang’s rinsing herself off before the scent of sex clings to her like a second skin.

“I believe the two of you already defiled the living room last week.” I say as I hand Blake one of the mugs.

“And the kitchen a week before that.” The Faunus says in reply, a purr rumbling her words. “Yang wanted to bang against your door, but, I didn’t want to antagonize you.”

I can’t say I’m surprised, so I merely sip my tea and say nothing. I reach out to push a thick black lock of wavy hair out of Blake’s face. The contours of our relationship are still fragile, enough so that I hesitate to think deeply on Yang’s desires, or my own for that matter. They can be a bit overwhelming at the best of times. Instead, I glance over at that bathroom door, and the humming I can hear from within.

“She was displeased that I chose to work late, wasn’t she?” I ask, but the answer is obvious.

“She’s worried about Ruby more than anything, I think.” Blake says, her golden eyes reflecting the dim lighting around us. I’d turn off the lamp, if I didn’t fear that Yang would walk face first into the nearby dresser if I tried. Instead, I’m forced to watch Blake frown with concern. The dim lighting only making it seem more ominous than it truly is. “You’re one of the few people with the security clearance to demand information on Ruby’s location, and yet, you choose not to.”

“Ruby’s under Winter’s command, not my own.” Although it’s little more than honesty, it feels flat when I say it. “We might be siblings, but I have no more right to demand classified intelligence, than she does to demand Intel on my business proceedings." It's a hard truth, but I've come to accept it. "We've worked hard for our positions. A line of respect has been drawn, and frankly, I trust my sister.”

Blake mulls that over quietly, laying her head on my shoulder. It’s pacifying, in its own way. That simple closeness means more to me than the sexually charged atmosphere that Blake and Yang are used to. Perhaps all of this is too much to ask for. Maybe choosing to settle down wasn’t the wisest of decisions at our disposal, but navigating those complicated things can wait.

Right now, it seems Blake and I would both rather sip our tea.

After working for so long, I have to say, I really do appreciate that.


	2. Burning the Midnight Oil, Part 2/3: (Blake POV)

The green tea is warm, slightly bitter, and mild.

If I close my eyes and take a deep breath, it reminds me of home and relaxes me. Faunus are often attracted to little sensations and simple pleasures. Something like the gentle warmth of a drink, or the caress of another carries with it a depth that I doubt humans fathom. It’s not that they couldn’t, I suppose. It’s more that they aren’t raised the same way Faunus are. They aren’t taught to show physical affection in passing, at least, not the same way. For example, a relative walking up to a small human and rubbing their ears would seem weird. For a Faunus with ears, the action is no different than a pat on the head, or a kiss on the cheek.

I look down at my tea, a single floating stalk seems to laugh at me. My mom always said that was a sign of good fortune, but I don’t put a whole lot of stick in things like that. I do miss home though, it’s been so long since I properly visited. I lift the tea to my lips again. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Weiss do the same.

I know Weiss prefers darker teas, one with more robust backgrounds and bursts of flavor. If my tongue wasn’t so sensitive to taste, I would probably enjoy the stronger flavors too. As it stands, I dislike particularly strong tastes. If tonight was her night, then the mug in my hand would be predominantly cream with just a splash of black tea.

I close my eyes as I lay my head on her shoulder. Her words ring true to me. She _does_ trust Winter. Just as Yang trusts Ruby.

On paper, tying up loose ends comes to a reasonable and satisfying conclusion each and every time. A few signatures, a hand shake, a press release, and a handful of lies buried deep keeps Remnant from becoming a graveyard. I’d like to say that all of those happy little outcomes drawn up on paper were true. Sadly, the facts are far from simple. Carefully constructed lies shaped this world, and carefully worded falsehood perpetuate them. Even with more answers than most, there’s no telling how deep the truth truly goes.

Honestly, most people only dip their toes into the murky cynicism that Remnant offers.

Those of us that know better, crank that cynicism to its furthest possible degree. With good reason, we view the world with a clearer lens, and a sharper focus. In spite of that, we’re no closer to unearthing the rationale that goes along with it. We do the best we can, and, that’s all we can do. It's one of the reasons I wanted to stop being a huntress.

The more I knew, the more disgusted I became.

I believe Weiss when she says that she trusts Winter to keep Ruby safe. Although they certainly don’t look it, they’re very close. The professional distance they keep allows their emotional closeness to strengthen. If nothing else, I have to respect that. I also know that Ruby has no interest in anything besides being a huntress. We can’t chain her to the safety of the kingdoms for the rest of her life, now can we?

Ruby could have stayed in Vale, but, she chose to come to Atlas with the rest of us. Serving directly as Winter’s subordinate was the best accommodation anyone could have hoped for. Weiss had to pull a lot of strings to even make it possible. She’s still working off some of her promises, and her late nights account for that.

Choosing a life in the city came with a territory, and with great difficulty, that _is_ what Yang chose. Hell, it’s what I chose, and I don’t regret it. We made our choices the selfsame way that Ruby made hers. We have to respect those choices now more than ever.

Weiss feels tense, and the fact that she’s still in her work attire makes me uneasy. I want to smell more than the crispness of bleach on a perfectly white shirt, or the sterile smell of dry-cleaning to the rest of her. Beneath all of that are the waning hygiene products that she put on to start her day. Deeper still are the faint hints of perspiration and oils that naturally collect on her skin. If I close my eyes and focus hard enough, I can find the scent known as Weiss.

It’s her unique calling card, and hers alone.

I want to bury my nose in the scent I’ve managed to catch, located fleetingly at the nape of her neck. I catch another hint of it at the base of her jaw. I’d like to nip her, just to see her blush. She’s pretty when she does. Instead, I merely place a kiss there. Doing more might otherwise annoy her. Weiss had never been the type to deal with overt amounts of affection well. I manage to steal another kiss, and leave it at that.

I open my eyes, hoping to catch her relaxing, but her eyes are glued to that bathroom door. It’s with fond exasperation that I sigh long and slow, setting my mug on the long shelf directly above the headboard.

“You’re overdressed for bed.” I say to her, hoping that it’ll be enough to rid her of those pesky clothes that agitate my nose. “You know the rule. Don’t sully our bed with bad smells. Your cloths reek like the chemicals used to clean them.”

“And here I thought that rules were made to be broken.” Weiss says her voice little more than simple observation. Her mug goes onto the bedside table. That’s her place to keep things, and it’s kept tidy, unlike Yang’s on the other side of the bed. A small table lamp, a self-help book, and a bottle of over-the-counter sleeping pills are the only things on it. She begins to unbutton that shirt, discarding it in a hamper near the foot of the bed. The bra follows next, modest breasts slipping free from their prison easily enough. She has to stand to remove her skirt and thigh-highs, leaving her only in the practical pair of black panties she had put on that morning.

They lack sensual design. A warning by nature. It means one simple thing; hands off.

She’s not in the mood, and those panties showcase our unspoken rule. We each have a few black pairs like that, although Yang and I rarely use them. Weiss tends to wear hers more often than not, a choice made merely by the fact that she’s never had a particularly high libido. I say nothing as she climbs back into bed, respecting that fact that she won’t be in the mood for anything other than cuddling, if even that. I don’t bother to hide my surprise when she pushes on my shoulder, a voiceless request that I readily oblige.

 Weiss doesn’t hesitate to drape herself over me and bury the both of us beneath the covers. She clings onto me, sagging into the embrace as she closes her eyes and finally lets out a hum at the back of her throat.

Is it insecurity that drives the action, or something else?

I begin to toy with her long locks of white that cascade around us. She used to wear it up more often than not, but she’s long abandoned much her refinery. Honestly, I’m not sure why, and I’m positive that she isn’t entirely aware of it either.

“It’s not that I don’t want to ask, you know…” Her voice is soft, the words ghosting across my skin in that gentle breath. “It’s that if I can’t trust Winter to keep Ruby safe, then who can I trust?”

“I figured it was something like that.” I respond, as I hear the sound of the water die in the bathroom.

“Ruby was my partner first, and I swore I’d be the best one she ever had. I’d like to think I made good on that promise. If there’s anyone that can make a liar out of me, though, then it would have to be Winter. Honestly, I hope she does. At least then I’ll know without a doubt that this mission, and all of the ones after it will be a success. I never thought I’d think that, but now that she’s out there without me, it’s the best I can hope for.”

"I understand." I say, continuing to play with those long strands of silk. If the action provides even a little comfort, it’s worth it. Still, her words stick to me like glue. I wonder who she’s trying to convince.

Me, or herself?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We close out the night with Yang's point of view next time.


	3. Burning the Midnight Oil, Part 3/3: (Yang POV)

I yank off my shower cap and hang it up to dry. Then I end up tossing all of the dirty towels into the mesh bag to be laundered. My towel follows last, and I head into the bedroom fresh and clean. The last thing I expect to see when I get out of my shower is Weiss with a face full of Blake’s tits.

Okay, so that might be an exaggeration...

They’re just resting there, Blake toying around with long strands of white hair. I don’t know why Blake’s so fascinated by our hair, or why she plays with it so much. She just does. She’s oddly domestic like that. I wonder if it’s one of those Faunus things, or if it’s just a Blake thing. I've never really asked. It's more fun to think about. Either way, I guess it doesn’t really matter. Weiss seems to like it well enough. I know I do.

Correction, when my hair has been brushed out, then I do.

There’s a mug of tea on my side of the bed. Green tea obviously. I know, since I’m the one that set the kettle to warm before getting a little frisky earlier.

It tastes like crap. It’s pricy too. Blake likes it though, and that’s what matters. I think it could use a splash of something to take the bitterness out, but that’s just me. Besides the fact that it tastes horrible, and I don’t see why we buy the most expensive brands of everything in the store. I really need to teach Weiss not to do that. Though, I doubt she’ll listen. Weiss doesn’t know how to live cheaply, and the phrase ‘bargain bin’ isn’t in her vocabulary. We've tried to get her to realize that prices don't always equate to quality.

I gulp down the tea the same way I would force down piss warm beer, probably making the same face too. I clean my lips with the back of my hand.

“Classy.” Weiss says to me, one single blue eye focused in my direction as I set down the chipped mug. Weiss would have thrown it out long ago, but I think it has character.

“That’s me, babe. Completely classy.” I wink at her, which only causes Blake to smirk behind her own mug before she places it back up on the shelf above us.

“Shut up and get in this bed before I drag you into it.” Blake orders dryly. “Weiss had to oblige my after sex cuddles.”

“Who says I’m willing to share now?” Weiss askes, making a show of cuddling deeper into Blake’s embrace, narrowing her gaze at me in an act of defiance. She really can be a bit possessive at times. It’s endearing, when it’s not an annoyance.

I pull back the covers, giving Weiss a small thwack on her shapely ass. “Scoot over, or I’ll squash you.” I may be smirking, but it’s not an idle threat, I’m the largest, tallest, and packed with muscle. If I wanted to belly flop on top of Weiss, I’d likely knock the wind right out of her. I have before, I can do it again.

Weiss reluctantly complies, and my playfulness dies a little inside as I see the black panties that act as the barrier between cuddles and sex. I wouldn’t have minded having her in my arms for a little bit before bed, but my wandering hands won’t be tolerated with that mood. Instead, I lay down and fling my long arm around both of the women in my life, taking the chance to pluck at the elastic questioningly. “You on the red, or did your sex drive just die again?”

“Must you be so crass?” Weiss mumbles as she ducks down slightly beneath the covers. Her lips just happen to graze Blake’s nipple, that's just a happy coincidence. Weiss blushes, turning impressive shade of red as she squeaks, burrowing deeper still. It’s not the first time she’s hidden from my questions, either.

“If you want crass, I could regale you with all of the curses Blake managed to come up with today…”

“Yang…” Blake’s warning comes across loud and clear, and I know I might be asking a little too much, a little too soon.

I sigh softly. It was one thing when we were all just friends with benefits. Sex was just sex back then, something to take the edge off. Weiss indulged much less than Blake and I. She would lose interest, her desire just bottoming out completely every now and then. I never used to think anything of it, but now, we’re trying to build a life together. It isn’t just a casual romp, and though I might not look it, I take these things very seriously.

Weiss has never been completely comfortable with the concept of pillow talk, but I’ll break that shell eventually. Even if I have to follow her under the blankets to do it.

I lower myself, finding a happy little perch across Blake’s navel. Blake laughing softly as a press my lips against it, a tiny affection to let her know she’s not forgotten. I then look back to Weiss as best I can under the blankets. It’s no coincidence that I’ve aligned myself so that we are nose to nose. “You know me, Weiss, I ask what’s on my mind. It was just an honest question.” I say to her softly, my fingers reaching out to smooth over the blush burning her cheeks. “I get that dropping the pretense of friendship is a new thing. If it’s none of my business, just tell me and I’ll back off.”

“Why does it matter to you, anyway?” Weiss asks, and truthfully I have a hard time finding the answer.

All in all, I like being able to reach over and grab a palm full of her bare butt at night. It might not seem like a big deal to anyone else, but that underwear is a wall between her and the things that she’s not sure of. A small little protection for when she can’t put the things she wants into words. For her, it’s not just because she’s not in the mood. It’s because something’s knocking around in her head, and one doesn’t always translate to the other.

But, back to her question; why does that matter?

I don't know. For me, it just does. My hands wander lazily, and when they do, it lulls me to sleep. I don’t think I could explain how it relaxes me. The reasons aren’t exactly clear to me either. I know I come across being a pervert on occasion. I don’t hide the fact that I check her out on a daily basis. Weiss is attractive, that’s a fact. She’s never had Blake’s confidence naked, though. She's easily intimidated by Blake and I, and we know that. We try to make her feel good about herself, but there are times she doesn't believe it.

It’s funny really. Put Weiss into a company meeting, and she’s an unholy terror. When she’s in the mood, she certainly doesn’t hesitate to give or receive, either. It’s the aftermath that gets to her. As soon as we undress her, and then ask her personal questions, and she’s as meek as a kitten. It’d be cute if it wasn’t so damn frustrating.

As for _why_ that matters...

“Well, because it’s you.” I end up saying. I know that probably isn’t good enough, but, it’s the best I can do.

Weiss is quiet for a while before she finally pokes her head out from under the covers, taking most of them with her. Blake’s looking at the both of us in amusement as she grips the blankets before they can fall off the bed entirely. Weiss makes a grab for them too, flipping onto her side as she switches off the light. I hear something rustling before the black garments hit me square in the face.

I wonder if she’d freeze me into an ice block if I put them in a frame?

That’s a question for another time...


	4. Drifting Petals, Part 1/??: (Ruby POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ruby’s chapters are going to be shorter than others, at least at first. Her chapters will take place between showings of our main triad, so her POV won’t be back again until a little later. This is mostly because I know what I want her past to be, but, I'm not entirely sure what *exactly* I'd like her future to be yet. Until I know that for sure, she'll be fleshing out the background.

I’m not good with people. I’ve always been a little awkward. As a huntress, it’s just easier when I’m told what to do. I like knowing how I’m supposed to act. If there's no guessing involved I can carry out my orders without a problem. At least, I'd like to think I do them well on my own. It’s not that I don’t miss being the leader of a team. I do miss it a little. It’s just that, for me, there was only one team I ever wanted to be part of.

I don’t think there will ever be something that special ever again.

It was the people that made it that way. One person, in my eyes, made the team everything I wanted it to be and more. It’s that same person that makes being a team impossible now. It’s not really her fault, I know that. Actually, it’s probably my fault more than hers. No one’s ever pointed any fingers or anything, that’s just the feeling that I get. I might have screwed up a little, I wouldn't doubt that. In thinking about it, maybe I was a little too honest back then.

I remember it clear as day. We were still just huntresses-in-training, and Weiss told me something.

She said that she would never be able to like me romantically. I knew it was coming before it happened. Knowing the outcome didn’t make it hurt any less. I really liked her, and I expressed that the way only a teenager could. I knew she didn’t feel the same way towards me. She never explained why, but, I was happy to come up with my own conclusions. At the time, I thought it was because Weiss just wasn’t interested in girls. I was alright with that.

I later found out that wasn’t the case at all. Weiss was interested in women. She just wasn’t interested in me, as a person. I still don't know quite how I feel about that.

Ever since she turned me down, she’s always been just a little bit nicer to me. I don’t know if she’s trying to spare my feelings, or because of something else. At first, I was okay with it. I figured I’d get over her, but, it wasn’t that easy. Then again, nothing ever really is. I feel like I should have known that, but, hindsight fixes a lot of things.

Honestly, I don’t really know when the three of them really got together...

 Weiss seemed pretty standoffish during school. She probably played things close to the chest. Blake probably was too, now that I think about it. Yang was wild back then, carefree. If she did have a relationship with either one of them, it probably wasn't anything serious. It wasn’t like they had a whole lot of time to figure themselves out during missions, either. Although, even if they were dating back then, it's not like I'll ever really know.

When they told me what was going on, we were already adults. At the time we needed a larger house. Actually, that’s probably when they realized it…

Two bedroom apartments in the heart of Vale are just too small for four people. They’re expensive, too. I suggested looking for a four bedroom house with a big yard out in the country. We could build a doghouse out back, and get a certified huntsman’s pup. I thought it might be nice to have one of our own, just like dad had Zewi. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I had this perfect image in my head, but then Yang, Blake, and Weiss sat me down. They told me they thought that they might be love.

The three of them, together.

They said that we didn’t need a four bedroom house. A two bedroom one would do just fine. Only this time, I’d be bunking alone. I’d never bunked alone before. Not at home, not at Signal, never at Beacon. The news just kind of shook me. I wanted to be happy for them, but all I could think about was Weiss. I thought about how I wasn’t good enough. I didn’t know why Yang was. I just smiled and told them I was happy for them.

What else was I supposed to do?

Weiss corned me alone, seeing right through me.

She told me that it wasn’t my fault.

She knew it hurt. She knew I still liked her. She knew that my feelings had matured over time, same as I had. That liking her had grown into loving her, even if it wouldn’t be returned.

It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t mine either.

Nobody was to blame…

It was just that her feelings for me were strictly platonic, and that's all they'd ever be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next, Weiss POV again.


	5. Icy Resolutions, Part 1/3: (Weiss POV)

The family company has never been completely transparent in all of our dealings. We're not a charity. In order to make the most profit, we’ve always clung to cheap practices. Questionable as they might be, one might call them normalcy as well. It's merely that only the largest and most famous companies fall under public scrutiny to such a large degree. The Faunus target the Schnee Dust Company not because of our backdoor deals, but because of what those deals represent. The implication carries more weight than the deals themselves, and that's just the way it goes.

I don't say that out of laziness, either.

Even if I wanted to bring the company back to its former glory, the fact remains that history has not been kind. I'm watched by the public, making my actions burdensome. I’m limited by the values of our shareholders, meaning that often enough, my opinion doesn't matter. I'm shackled by corporate greed, and that extends far beyond my power to control it. I’m sure that in the eyes of many, I’m not better than my father.

I might as well be the new villain for the Faunus to loathe. I can’t do much to change the plight. Sadly, I’m rather powerless to do much of anything in the grand scheme.

I can raise the wages of my workers. I can insist on better healthcare incentives. I can fire bigots and uphold workplace anti-discrimination laws. I can sign my name across every beneficial packet of paper that might give my employees an edge. I’ve tried to do all of that. It’s just that there’s a problem.

I will always have to combat the greater perceptions of the world we live in.

When I raise my wages, my competitors do the same. When I promise better healthcare, I lose support from high places. For every person I fire, I must make sure there is someone able to fill their place. When it comes to upper management, there are only so many qualified perspective employees to choose from. To continue to be the leading dust company on remnant, my employees must remain cogs to the greater scheme.

The Faunus, unfortunately, are part of that.

They might be people, but, to me they’ve become faceless. They’re just nameless entities that do my bidding. In truth, that’s all they can ever be. At the end of the day, I’m the head of the company. I’ve learned to swallow my pride. I need to cut my losses when and where I can. It’s a hard thing to do, it shouldn’t ever be easy. I think the day that I fully disregard my employees in mass, that is the day I should be thrown from this chair as forcefully as possible.

The company is massive, of course. The issues it has trickle down to its very core. When it comes to the human resources division, the problem rests in the name.

Human.

Not Faunus.

Only Human.

The bigotry still exists, no matter what sort of hammer I attempt to pin it down with. My personal integrity only reaches so far, and that has been a very hard lesson to learn. Blake doesn’t say much of anything on the topic anymore. After seeing the toll it takes on me, I think she understands that this is a fight I simply cannot win. Unless the people of Atlas choose to see the Faunus as equal and begin to strive for that social normality, I’m reduced to my limited perceptions.

My reach will only ever go so far.

“You’re frowning again.” Blake says to me playfully as she closes my laptop.

“And you’re home from your interview.” I say fully ready to listen to whatever Blake had to say. “How did it go?”

Blake’s ears drooped, and that little smile that was on her lips fell. That look said it all, but I still listened when she finally found the words. “I was told the position had already been filled.”

Which, of course, was a blatant lie. Blake was more than qualified, but there were two little reasons atop her head. Her ears perfect excuses as to why someone wouldn’t hire her. “You don’t need to have gainful employment.” I say, realizing that voicing that probably only made the wound cut deeper. “I make enough money to support all of us. Money should never be a fear in your mind.”

I'd take it as a personal insult to my integrity if ever it were a concern, after all.

“I can’t be happy with that." Blake says, and I can easily hear the growing frustration in her voice. "I feel like I’m just sitting around. I hate feeling like I don’t contribute anything.”

I can see that. Blake has always been a hard worker. There is no easy way to speak the truth, but boldly lying about this would be unforgiveable. “You wouldn't contribute, even with a job. The wage gap in Atlas is offensively low for Faunus anyway. The pay you’d earn wouldn’t be worth the work you’d do. I really hate to say this, but unless you look for something less sought after, you probably won’t have an easy time.” I say as I lean back in my chair. "Just don't give up." I wish it didn’t sound so terrible, but Blake knows I’m not lying.

She could put my name on a resume, but she refuses to do that, knowing she’d probably be hired out of fear. Her eyes finally lift to mine, hope lingering there the way that it does after every setback. It’s not as bright as it used to be. As though, that hope has been tarnished by so many rejections. I’d do anything to bring that light in her eyes back.

She’s too beautiful for words, sometimes.

“Did you tell Yang?” I ask.

“I didn’t have the chance. She’s not home.”

Of course she’s not, because if she were here she would be in this room regardless of my rule about staying out of it. "Where'd she wander off to this time?" I say, demanding to know.

"To do the shopping."

"That idiot, what did she do, lose herself in the streets." I grouse. I have to lower my ire, it's not Blake's fault Yang has a tendency to faff about.

"She likes the scenic route, you know."

I'd like it if she wouldn't make prolonged journeys when I need her here and attentive. I rub my eyes as I close the file on my desk. I’m going to regret this later, but I don’t want to leave Blake stewing in her own head alone. It never ends well. So instead of dragging along the inevitable, I pack away what remains of my afternoon schedule.

“I could use a break.” I say, closing one of my folders with more force than I truly need. “Care to join me?”

I see Blake’s lips twitch, and I wonder if she’s going to complain about the sounds of my annoyance. I pick up the key that sits on the corner of my desk. No matter how many times I do it, the key always feels heavy in my hands.

“Can you really afford to take the time off?” Blake finally manages to ask.

It’s a simple question, but it doesn’t have an easy answer. I’ve learned that my work will never be done, there is always, _always_ , something that I could be looking after. Contracts and board meetings come and go in cycles. The bookkeeping alone has millions of little reasons why I need to keep a close eye on company proceedings. It consumes me because it must. Doing anything less puts too much at risk. I rethink the question, because that is part of my job as well.

Should I done for the day? No, not by a long shot.

Am I choosing to put everything to the wayside for the moment regardless of that? Yes, I am.

I toy with that little key in my hands, wondering why I feel compelled to do it. Why am I doing any of this, really?

I wish I knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next, Blake


	6. Icy Resolutions, Part 2/3: (Blake POV)

She's fiddling with that small embroidered handkerchief again. One of the few overtly nervous habits that she has. Most of her nervous ticks are subtle, but not this one. 

I wonder what she thinks about, sometimes. Weiss isn’t as forthcoming with the way she sees the world. Her observations aren’t simple, and she gets lost in the contrasts. I’ve seen the way Weiss will sit and stare at the fireplace. It’s not a calm and relaxing thing, there’s always this intensity in her eyes. It’s as if she just doesn’t know how to be in the moment. It doesn’t matter how many times we make love, or how many soft assurances Yang and I give her.

Weiss always seems to lose herself to her thoughts. It must be exhausting. I don’t envy the way she sits there, categorizing every stray emotion she might have. I’ll bet that’s rather hard to do. Honestly, I wonder if she actually lets herself _feel_ any of them. There are times, like now, where I think she’s trying to close something off. She does that at lot, especially with concepts that she has trouble understanding. I wish it didn't have to be that way. That it could be easier for her to voice her thoughts. Although, I understand why that isn't the case.

This, too, is a side of Weiss that I’ve grown to appreciate. I know she sees it as a weakness. That I’m allowed to be privy to that little detail at all, well, it makes me happy…

“Blake, have I been neglectful?”

The way she asks that make me scoff. It’s silly, really. I have no idea why she would think that. “No, I wouldn’t say that.”

“Do you think Yang would say that?”

I can’t stop the way my eyes flick to her. I close the art book that I’d been idly looking at. The historical text can wait. “No, I wouldn’t say that, either.” I say slowly. I'm not sure of what, exactly, she's searching for. A question like that it could mean anything.

“Then, what would you say about it?” Weiss then asks, and the way she twists the silk handkerchief in her hands just hurts to look at.

Weiss tends to overthink things, and that drives Yang completely crazy. I know I’m guilty of the same thing on occasion. When it happens, Yang feels responsible. She has this irrepressible need to solve whatever’s knocking around in our minds.

Yang isn’t like us. She’s an open book, and she always has been. If we ask her a question, we’ll always get an answer. Even if she knows we won't like it, she doesn't hold back. Although, sometimes I think she can be a bit too willing to share her uninhibited thoughts. The scandalous ones, at least. Though, at least when she does that, she does it with levity. I wish she were here now, she'd probably do a better job of dismantling the current issue.

Still, I need to give Weiss an answer.

“I would say that Yang’s worrier, and she’s always going to be. She cares about us, and sometimes that slips out in ways that she doesn’t want it to.” I feel as though Weiss is also letting her emotions slip out in ways that if she were in a better mood, she wouldn't like. I reach over to free that poor square of fabric from her grip. My hand replacing the now rumpled object. She’s always so tense when she’s bothered by something. “If Yang thought you were neglectful in any way, you’d know about it. Although, if it’s troubling you that much, you could just ask her.”

“White lace.” Weiss murmurs in a way that’s completely alien to my ears. The way she squeezes my hand is full of anxiety.

I must have misheard her. Where’s the coy lilt that I’m used to? What about that shy little blush she sometimes gets? I love that little blush, and it’s nowhere to be found right now.

It’s almost as if she’s been agonizing over it. I’d better clarify. “What’d you say?”

“White lace.” The fact that she repeats it the same way isn’t exactly a comfort.

“That’s what I thought you said.” I feel my voice dropping to a murmured husk to match hers. I don’t know how to take it.

“I’m just saying that it could happen…if you wanted it.” She says leaving the air open.

Her phrasing is heavy to me. To me it feels like so much more than an offer to blow off a little steam.

It sounds sad and guilty.

She's been that way ever since we've settled in Atlas. This place is like a creeping poison, it's eating away at all of us. It's just hurting Weiss the most. If this keeps up, I'll get them out of here. I'll take then someplace safe.  

Weiss tends to be a careful sort of lover. She plans out everything, or at the very least, she knows where she wants it to go. Yang and I have tried to get her to relax a little, but she never has taken well to being blindsided by affection. There are times like these that surprise me. Occasionally she’ll just murmur the color of her underwear right out of thin air, and my heart stops.

Usually though, there seems to be a goal in mind. Even the times she's not searching for anything besides our pleasure, she's obvious about it. I've lost count of the time she's lain me out on the bed, oral sex a simple and easy distraction from the rigors of daily life. She doesn’t have to do that, but she does for our sake. She'll say that it's her apology for losing track of time, or for losing her temper when she shouldn't have. Even then, Weiss has a carefully planned out goal.

Right now, her words seem aimless. It's like she's lost.

I know the offer she’s making isn’t for her. It’s for me. I know she’s not really in the mood. She doesn’t just turn on a dime like that. She never has. She probably never will. We’ve always had to take the time to work her up before she’ll even think to suggest something like this. I have nothing against taking my dear sweet time on her like usual, though it seems that’s not what she’s after.

This isn't like her...something's just not right.

Instead of admitting any of that, though, I just shrug as casually as I can. “Do…you want that?”

She says nothing, and I exhale softly, pulling my arm from the back of the loveseat. I put it around her slowly, she doesn’t recoil, but she doesn’t melt into me either. Instead, she looks up at me. I have no idea what she’s thinking, but I know whatever the hell it is, I _don’t_ want her thinking about it anymore.

I pull her as tight as I dare into both of my arms as I reach for my scroll to contact Yang. I can't fix this alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, Yang POV as she comes to save the day.


	7. Icy Resolutions, Part 3/3: (Yang POV)

“Shit, I didn’t mean to strike a nerve.” I say as I look at the mess of groceries I've managed to lug into the kitchen. Then, my eyes catch the Faunus standing across from me. I don't like what I see.

Blake looks like hell.

I knew it was going to be a bad day the moment I saw her get dressed up in that stupid pencil skirt she wears to interviews. As hot as she is in that thing, I’ve come to hate it. It’s bad news every damn time.

“As much as I know you’d like to blame yourself over this, I doubt it was you.” She says as she examines the cans of tuna I got before putting them away, doing the same with the sardines and canned fruit. She flattens back her ears as she crumples the plastic bag, stuffing it with a few of the others before sliding them into a storage bin. “She’s just exhausted and stressed out. It happens.”

I look down at my own bag that I’m sorting, grabbing out the garlic powder to set it on the spice rack. “Yeah, well I’d wish it would happen a whole lost less. She doesn’t have to do any of this. There’s got to be a better way, we just have to find it. I hate seeing her all torn up like this.”

“So do I, but she knows that.” Blake says to me as she takes the bags out of my hands. “I’ll put these away, just go be with her.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t anything I said?” I ask, because I feel so damn guilty. “Where is she?”

“I put her in the bathtub, and I took her office key away for now. I’ll give it back to her tomorrow.” Blake says, plucking a stray leaf out of my hair. She crumples the green little leaf in her palm, and I lean into the thumb that skillfully pushes the troublesome strand back with the rest of my windswept hair. I accept the soft kiss of reassurance she offers me, but it really doesn’t help as much as I’d like it to. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Yang. It’s just that this move to Atlas has been hard for all of us.”

Yeah, no shit.

It still feels like I did something wrong, though.

Normally, I’m the one that does all of the errand running around the house. I like just hopping on my bike and speeding around the city. It’s a good way to pass the time when Weiss is busy with long hours. I figures today would be the same as most of the others. I didn’t think Blake would ping my scroll. The text said to stop farting around in the city and to get my ass home. I’m glad I saw it in time. I finished the grocery shopping I should have finished two hours earlier, and headed back to the house...then I came home to this mess.

It’s not really a huge surprise to find out that they’ve both had a crappy day. I just wish that I didn’t feel responsible for part of it.

“You going to join us when you’re done?” I want Blake there. I want all of us together.

“We’ll see, you might not be in the tub anymore by that point.” She says. "Weiss might be a giant prune by the time I'm done."

I nod and force myself to get moving. I don’t know what I can do to help Weiss, but I’m going to do the best I can. I owe that to her. I make a beeline for the bathroom, shucking off my clothes down the hallway. Blake will get them later, I just need to strip and get my ass in that bathtub.

I need to fix this.

My pants and thong are the last things to hit the floor, and I nearly skid into the doorframe of the bathroom just to get them off. Then I see Weiss, curled up into the smallest possible ball among an ocean of lavender colored water. The sizzling of a bath bomb adding soft white noise to the air. Her long white hair has been wrapped up in a towel, and she’s submerged up to her chin. I step over the tall wall of the large bath, sinking down into the hot water.

“I’m sorry, Weiss.” I say as gently as I can.

She sits upright as if noticing me for the first time. Her confusion would be cute if this was any other time. “Why are you sorry?”

It’s like she honestly doesn’t know. “I didn’t mean to put any pressure on you.”

“You didn’t.” She tells me, and I wish I could believe that as she pulls her knees up to her chin.

“I hope you know that I’d never force you into anything that you didn’t want to do.” I say, feeling like I should be doing a better job in all of this. “If I did anything to make you think otherwise, tell me. I swear, I’ll never do whatever it was again.”

“Yang…” Weiss is looking at me fully now, with something in her eyes that I just can’t figure out. “I’m the one at fault here.”

I pat the surface of the water in front of me. It’s an open invitation, but I don’t really know if she wants it. Thankfully, I don’t have to wait long for an answer. The water ripples around us as she moves to sit in my lap.

“Can I?" I ask, two of my fingers catching onto the end of that white towel.

She nods as she wraps her arms around me. I undo the towel as her forehead falls into my shoulder. Her hair tumbles down, the last few inches end up floating in the water. She always seems so fragile like this. It’s hard to remember that she’s just as skilled a huntress as I am. Hell, she could probably gut me, if she really wanted to. I _have_ to give Weiss more credit when it’s due. She’s so damn strong. It’s crazy to me that she can seem so weak. I hate this stupid kingdom. All it does is cause pain.

“You look tired.” I say, but actually, she looks dead on her feet. I feel like I've already made an ass of myself. I’ve got to try not to do it again.

“I am.” She admits, and I want hold her just a little closer as a result. I pull her into a gentle kiss, keeping it as soft and as unhurried as I can. When she pulls away, I let her.

“Blake told you to come home, didn’t she?”

“Yeah, she told me it’s been a pretty bad day around here.” I say, feeling like I should apologize again. “I’m starting to get the feeling I can’t just hug the problem away, either…”

“Don’t be so utterly ridiculous. My bad mood isn’t your fault.” Weiss says, and even though I really want to believe her, I don’t. “We all have bad days, you’re not to blame for mine.”

“Yeah, but your bad days just keep getting worse.” I say awkwardly, because honestly I don’t know how to help her. Honestly, I don’t know if there’s anything I _can_ do at this point. If there is, though, I will find it. “I’d offer to beat the hell out of whatever’s bugging you, but I don’t think it’s a Grimm…”

“I hate it here.” Those for little words spoken against my skin are the god’s honest truth.

“Then, let’s leave.” I knew we shouldn’t have come to Atlas. We should have stayed in Vale, or gone to Menagerie. We shouldn’t have come up here. “We don’t need to stay.”

“As if you’d ever leave Ruby behind.” Weiss says with a dark sort of amusement in her voice. I watch as she pulls away and looks down into the water. What is she looking at? What does she even she see in the small ripples?

“Maybe Ruby would come with us.” I say.

“It’s not fair to ask her to do that.” The way Weiss points that out hurts a little. The way she curls up against me again hurts more. “Yang, I didn’t want it to be this way, but nothing in my life goes as I initially plan. This was the best I could do to keep us together. Furthermore, this is the only way we can stay as close to Ruby as possible. I know it’s not good enough, but this is the only way we can keep her safe.”

I huff a small breath, and I want to deny it. She’s right though. I wouldn’t let Ruby be up here alone. That would never sit well with me. Weiss brought us up here because her father asked her to come. She ended up staying for Ruby’s sake, and by extension, for mine. I’d be an idiot not to know that. I’d be an even bigger dumbass if I didn’t realize the odds were going to be stacked against us from the start.

Okay, so maybe this isn’t a quick fix. Maybe I can’t do anything at all to make it easier.

I can still be here, though.

For now, that’ll just have to be good enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, a small family spat keeps them honest, and Weiss (finally) realizes she's stretching herself too thin. Weiss POV.


	8. Shadow’s Conclusion, Part 1/3: (Weiss POV)

It’s not conventional for three people to engage in any sort of romantic relationship together. The math tends to make it worse. We’re three women. Two humans and a Faunus. That one of those humans just happens to be a Schnee only makes the matter more obtuse to the public eye.

I can hardly blame the good people of Atlas for raising an eyebrow at Blake. She’s looking for the same sort of recognition that one might find in Vale, but Faunus are hardly in the position to ask for something like that here. The White Fang caused enough damage to set the Faunus movement back decades. Even if they hadn’t, Blake doesn’t have the sort of clout to go around asking for the sort of employment she’d receive in Vale.

There’s really nothing I can do to help her, either.

Being a Schnee is not as limitless as I had hoped. Being the head of the company is my greatest achievement, and my most unforgivable failure. I can feel the weight of all of it on my shoulder. Not even my grandfather had to hold such a heavy burden. I look across the room to my brother, who sits despondently in the corner. He’s always been the baby of the family. Now, like the rest of us, he’s no longer the prized child that our father loves. He’s nothing more than failed image of what the company should have represented.

Father now sees him as a disgrace.

Blake sets down a cup of tea next to him. He flinches in fear before he sneers at her. No matter how many times she approaches him, he always tends to recoil. I sigh as Blake leaves my office the same way she came in. Her ears down flat, unsure how to handle my little brother. I stand from my desk, sliding my chair into place as I follow after her.

“Blake, he doesn’t mean you any harm.” I say to her once I find her in the kitchen. Yang is sitting at the table, watching something on her scroll. In a brief show of concern, she lifts her head to glance at both of us, but my attention is entirely on Blake. “Though, in saying that, you may ultimately come to harm if you don’t keep your distance from him.”

“I hate the way he looks at me.” She says, a soft growl in her voice dripping with frustration. I don’t know if it’s the kind that can be soothed away.

There’s an unspoken tension that’s obvious between Blake and Whitley, one that I’m rather ashamed to admit. I was once like him, indifferent to the Faunus, uncaring of what that meant. To Whitley, they’re nothing but villains that made his childhood a living hell. Blake’s own involvement with the White Fang wasn’t something we told him about. It’s impossible for him not to know, though. A simple internet search answers that question.

“I know you do, I hate it too. That is precisely what I mean by getting hurt.” I quickly cleared my throat. Once again, I want to curse the burden my family has thrust upon me. “You face enough bigotry outside of the house. You don’t need it here too. He's my little brother, not yours. You don’t have to pay him the time of day.”

“I keep wanting to think he’s better than that.” Blake says weakly.

I concur of course. I’d like him to be better than that too, but, circumstances shaped him differently. I have no possible way to convey those circumstances to Blake, though.

“I was lucky to have Winter’s presence as a child. The vastness in our ages meant that I could be left in her care for a few hours at a time. When I was too old to hid behind my governess, and too young to be left on my own, Winter was there for me. She would take me out into the city. When Whitley was older, she'd take him too. The problem is, he didn’t have that luxury for nearly as long. When she left on deployments, I was too close in age to him. I couldn't be his substitute." I begin to explain. "We would be trapped in the house until Winter came back. Sometimes, that would take months."

This catches Yang's attention, her eyes back on up. I glance to her, offering a little smile. I talk about the details of my childhood so rarely. "Once I was old enough to receive training formally, Winter saw after a great deal of it. I would sometimes be permitted to travel with her abroad. This probably only ended up making matters worse for Whitley."

"Worse how?" Yang asked then, with a gentleness that surprised me.

"In more ways than one, probably. As you both know, the White Fang only became more toxic after I left the household. I have no doubt that my brother was the sponge for our father’s rage. It seems an apt assumption. Just like I was the target before him, and Winter before me. The problem is, he always adored that man. He never knew any better, and blind obedience goes a long way to keep my father from lashing out.”

I hope saying that will be enough. Blake just looks tense, though. She's angry too. There's a reason I don't talk about my past. It very clearly upsets her. There are times that she directly blames herself, given that the White Fang had a way to inspire my father's abusive temper. 

“Please, Blake, don't blame yourself. Don't hold it against Whitley, either. I won’t pretend our past is an excuse, but to ignore that matter completely isn’t fair to him.” I tell her apologetically. “Furthermore, it's not fair to you. For all that he is, Whitley is still my little brother.”

I have no other way of getting Blake to understand the situation. Father is a man who controls the household with fear. He is neither physically powerful, nor particularly sadistic, but to call him kind is completely impossible. Rage loosens his tongue and his hand alike. Yet, even that was drilled into him by men who raised him. The men on both sides of the family were the selfsame. Times are changing, but the scars and ideologies take generations to mend.

I’d like to think that Winter, Whitley, and myself are the last in our line to ever endure such a hellacious upbringing.

Blake lets loose a small growl. She's hurting. “I keep giving him the benefit of the doubt. I keep telling myself that he’s more like you, and if I work on him a little, maybe he’ll see reason.” Blake said with a tilt of her head, amber eyes slipping shut as she sighs. “Am I wrong? Is it really such a waste of time?”

Like so many other things in my life, I wish I knew.

In truth, I have no idea. Honestly, it all remains to be seen.

“He hates the Faunus.” I say, purely on principle. I don’t want her to try and reach out to him anymore. If he doesn’t change, it’ll only result in pain. Blake doesn’t deserve that. “He’s nothing like me, Blake. He has no concept of life outside of the family name. Father clung to him like a tumor, and now he has to stand on his own two feet, and no one has ever once shown him how.”

“He won’t let us show him.” Blake mumbled with renewed frustration. “All he ever does is sulk by the window when he comes by. That’s hardly learning a thing.”

I don’t have a good answer to that, but I know for a fact that’s not Whitley’s fault. This is just yet another reason to hate our father. If he had shown Whitley even an ounce of care, he would have raised his son to be a man. Perhaps that would have come along with everything to hate about my family along with it, but at least then, Whitley would have stood tall. If nothing else, he would learned how to survive in this world, fickle that it is.

“The one person in his life he completely trusted cast him aside, Blake. Whitley was promised that the company would go to him, not his thrice damned middle sibling.” I offer a bitter smile. “It would be cruel to expect him to trust you right now. Honestly, I think he’s having trouble learning to trust me again, let alone someone else.”

I suspect that trusting me is also a large crux of this issue between them right now.

Father raised Whitley to be a puppet, and little more. My little brother is nothing more than Father’s shadow. Without him in good health to tell Whitley what to do, there is nothing that Whitley _can_ do. Ultimately, he will never be able to handle the complexities of company. He has no connections, no life experience, and no formal training of any sort. Added to that, he’s a young man from a wealthy family. He’s expected to have all of the finest atlesian pleasures afforded to him on principle.

He received nothing. It's the greatest of insults.

“Aw, come on guys. You act like this kind of thing isn’t normal.” Yang says from her place at the table. She’s been so quiet, I forgot she had been sitting there listening with rapt attention. “I think Blake’s right, though. Weiss, he probably is a lot more like you than you give him credit for.”

I look up to meet Yang’s gaze. “I would really like to believe that.” I say, but I fear the damage may already be done.

By this time, Blake’s leaning heavily on the counter, sagging as she glares down at it. “Even if he isn’t, I won’t be satisfied until I know for sure.”

“Weiss, you were pretty prickly too, at first.” Yang goes on to say, and I can’t deny her words. “It took you a long time to warm up to us as a team. You got to know Blake as a friend before you found out she was a Faunus. That still didn’t keep you guys from having a huge fight, though. You can’t compare that to Whitley. He never had that time to warm up to her.”

“He has the time now.” Blake says. “It’s not doing any good, Yang. I can’t tell if he’s afraid of me, or just wants me dead.”

“I’d rather not find out, thank you very much.” I mutter with a sigh. “I haven’t a clue as to what kind of things were put into his head.”

“Probably the same assholian crap that was put into yours.” Yang says with a smirk as she finishes off the nearby chip bag and tosses it into the trash bin. “He just sees the kitty ears, and he freaks out a bit. The thing is, I’d bet that’s not too far removed from what you would have done. Weiss, if you had met Blake without the bow, you probably wouldn’t have liked her very much, either.”

I would like to deny that, but I can’t. “To be fair, at the time that I met Blake, I treated most Faunus with direct indifference.”

“Except for Sun.” They both say at the same time. I’ll never live it down, either.

“I still stand by my assumption of him.” I reply hotly, because quite frankly I do. Like many huntsmen I’ve come across, he doesn’t think before he leaps. Anyone who rolls around in the dirt like he does tends to be filthy, and anyone who breaks the laws like he does tends to be a rapscallion. Also, he really could stand to wear a shirt that actually covers him. That he just so happens to be a Faunus is a coincidence at this point. “Anyway, this isn’t about me, it’s about Whitley.”

“He’ll either warm up to Blakey, or he won’t. Whatever happens, that’s just the way the chips will fall.” Yang grins with one of her easy going shrugs. I hate it when she does that so casually in the middle of a tense conversation. It makes me feel like I’m being ridiculous. “I know it’s not what either one of you wanted to hear, but, nobody said learning to be a family would be easy. When we came to Atlas, this is part of what we signed up for. We'll work it out the best we can.”

Yang genuinely believes that, too. There’s no way to convince her otherwise, not with that look on her face.

Still, I don’t want to give Blake false hope.

The weight of this family won’t crush another soul, I can’t allow it.


	9. Shadow’s Conclusions, Part 2/3: (Blake POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to 2019 everyone. Let's have a good year.

Weiss spent the rest of the afternoon in her office speaking with her brother in hushed tones. It was mostly discussion over the company, but, Weiss seems disinterested. She’s been that way lately, distracted, listless. She doesn’t come out of the office until dinner. Yang cooked burgers and made a side salad, so it wasn't anything fancy. Weiss didn't comment on the lack of presentation, though she never does when it comes to Yang. I think she's learned that a lost cause, thanks to Yang's home-style recipes.

She went back into her office after she helped with the dishes, insisting she had to take a few calls. Yang and I were concerned, so I went in the office to check in on her a little while later. The call had very little to do with business though, and more to do with gossip...or what passes for gossip between Weiss and her older sister.

Satisfied with that, I left her alone. I thought it would be a fairly typical night in, but then, Weiss catches me by surprise.

“Blake, would you join me please.” She asks from the hallway.

I look to Yang, but she’s unhelpful. Her eyes fixated on her scroll. She’ll spend several more hours on that game if we let her. “You heard the queen bee of the house.” She says, plucking the book I had been reading out of my hands. She half tosses it onto one of the cushions I can’t reach without getting up. “She called you, not me.”

“Obviously.” I shoot back. “You better not waste all night on that thing, Yang.”

She just waves me off with a chuckle. I don’t expect more than that, really.

Yang’s spontaneous, just like her semblance. Her range of emotions come part and partial to how fired up she actually is. When things are going good, and all is right with the world, Yang acts very self-assured. At her worst she can be a little vain, slightly arrogant, and very cocky. At her best, she’s that ray of sunshine and hope, a gentle guiding light that Weiss and I desperately need. Most of all though, when times are good she tends to lean into a mostly dominant headspace when it comes to our relationship as a couple.

When the going gets tough, all of her tiny insecurities begin to slip out. If that’s the case, her worst comes in the form of anger. Her semblance becomes difficult to control, and she sometimes forgets her own strength. She’s broken things by mistake by gripping them too hard. When she’s in a bad mood for a long stretch of time, she’ll start to waver and distrust herself. If that continues to go on for too long, she’ll start leaning into a mostly submissive headspace.

She's a switch by nature, same as myself, so it's been known to happen.

Since we’ve moved to Atlas, finding our place in dominance and submission has been impossible. Yang’s desire for control has been slipping, and mine comes purely in the form of playing. It doesn’t exactly exit the bedroom. Moving to Atlas has, unhelpfully, put that aspect of our relationship on hold, making it very difficult for Yang and I as a couple.

To make the matter even more complicated, as a triad, it doesn't exist at all. We both sort of default to doing whatever Weiss asks of us, because that's just easier on all of us.

Weiss is traditional in most senses of the word. I’m perfectly okay with that, and Yang is too. We knew what we were getting into with Weiss. Yang and I knew we would always need to be careful with her. We would need to assume a very fluid power dynamic, and accept that Weiss didn’t share it with us. She knows it’s there. She just doesn't partake. Partly, it's due to inexperience, and partly because Weiss hasn't asked to take things to that level. Yang and I sometimes do things that we would never ask Weiss to get involved in, but there are times she’s walked in on it.

Sometimes, she’s even been curious enough to watch.

“Is something wrong?” I ask as I enter into the long stretch of hallway that holds our front door, her office, a small bathroom, and the kitchen. It also leads into the library and bedrooms at the back of the house.

“Not wrong, exactly.” Weiss says to me as she hangs her key on the hook. “However, it has come to my attention that Ruby will be returning to Atlas Academy with my sister in a few days. The mission is over, and they’ll be sent back to report to the general. I suspect she’ll be given some time off. I doubt she’ll want to stay here, given the circumstances. We should finish furnishing her room though, just in case.”

“You called me out here just for that?” I ask.

“No, rather I’d hope you would accompany me.”

I’ll admit, that has my attention.

Her eyes are nothing but sincerity as she leads me to the bedroom.

“How would you like to do this?” She asks as she begins to shuck off the first few layers of her business attire. “Or, would you like me to decide?”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Weiss, if this is about yesterday-”

“It’s about everything.” Weiss bites out, interrupting me. My jaw clicks shut when her blue eyes pierce through me.

That was a question too far. I shouldn't have done that, her composure's cracked now, and it's an awful one. She's holding together on willpower alone. She breaths out a curse, licking her lips as she looks down to the floor. As if glaring at me like she has for too long might actually turn me to stone.

“The limits of my own abilities have been lain down before me, and like it or not, I’m not nearly as powerful as I thought myself to be." She finally says, offering a glimpse into the ting fractures that have been mounting in her mind for the past few weeks. "I may not be the bigot my father is, but, coming back to Atlas has shown me one very indisputable thing. It doesn’t matter if I like it or not. I’m still very much his daughter, and I can’t escape that.”

“You’re not anything like him.” I say, mostly because it's true.

“Oh, yes I am.” Weiss says, and the smirk that comes with it is actually slightly disturbing.

"I don't think so." It's ridiculous, when I come to think about it. "You really shouldn't say things like that."

“It’s amazing what a few flourishes of a pen can do. It truly is mightier than the sword, Blake. When I hold that pen in my hand, I sign away document after document. I've begun to realize just how little regard for people big business has. It’s disgusting, really.” At that she only sighs. Leaning on a nearby wall, she removes one strappy heel before switching legs to remove the other. “Like all things, though, I’m nothing if not adaptable. I’ve gotten used to it, which is only more sickening.”

She hangs up her discarded long white tail coat, and the accompanying vest that sat underneath. She hates that vest, complains often that it looks too masculine. She wears it because it’s bullet proof. Like heads of the family before her, she wears it for protection. What lies beneath all of it is a simple white shirt. Pure silk, with small buttons. Her fingers pause three buttons down, lingering there, and I realize in those few moments of silence, I haven’t said a word.

She’s rendered me speechless, and I can do no more than let her words echo deep within me. I search for the right thing to say. I just don’t know if there is one.

“Blake, this company is going to absorb me to some degree.” She goes on to say. “The damage can’t be undone in a single generation. Father’s not the only one at fault for the massive oversights that have gone on."

"True, but you're not the only one working to make changes, either." That's the one single bit of saving grace in all of this.

"I can only do so much on the world stage, as it currently stands." Weiss says to me in a way that just hurts. There is no worse sound than a Schnee feeling defeated. "Frankly, I’m reaching the limits of my immediate power. The waiting game is fast approaching. If I'm going to last for the long haul, I need to consider my future. I’ll probably have to resort to at least some level of complicity, even in the acts I disagree with.”

She’s right about that, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

“It’s enough to drive a person mad.” She finishes, looking back down to complete the trajectory of her hands. Undoing the rest of the buttons and shucking off her shirt, casting it aside with very little care. “If I have to think about every faceless person I may or may not harm, I’ll never find any peace in any of this. Lifetimes worth of problems have fallen onto my shoulders, and I can’t be everywhere at once. The Faunus plight is merely one issue of many, but, it is the issue that hits home...our home, Blake.”

It’s perhaps now that everything has a clarity that it’s never had before. There’s a very distinct reason why Yang isn’t in this room right now. This divide doesn’t concern her. It’s not a bridge she’s ever had to cross. She’s not really impacted by any of this on a fundamental level. Weiss and I, on the other hand…

“I have to pick and choose.” Weiss said, the dark honesty in that tone makes me feel sick. "I'm at that point."

"What can I do to help?" Probably nothing, but I'd do anything to get rid of that pained look in her eyes.

“Tell me what you want me to do." She says. "Do I choose the company, and sink all of my efforts into it? Or do I put my work away at a reasonable hour, and choose you and Yang instead? Do I agonize over every little thing I have to sign? Or do I just sign them, and be done with it? I’m doing the best I can possibly do in a horrible situation, but if that's not good enough for you, it'll never be good enough for me.” One hand reaches up clutching at her bangs as she closes her eyes. “What do you want me to do?”

I really am an ideological idiot. I’ve let Weiss try to turn herself into a one woman army towards the Faunus cause, and now she’s about to break.

I’ve hurt other people before, thinking the way that I do. I still remember the way I shouted at my dad when he stepped down from the White Fang. I remember feeling like he was giving up, and I couldn’t stand for that. In thinking on it now, I treated him like a one man army too. I was young then, hungry for recognition and true equality. I assumed he could make sweeping changes that were just impossible at the time. He knew when to throw in the towel and take a few steps back. I was just too young and stupid to see it then.

I have to be smart enough to see it now…

This is the life I chose to live.

I close the gap between us. The answer's obvious. To me, it always has been.

I love them, both of them.

No matter my beliefs, they have to come first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next, Yang, Blake, Weiss and sexy cuddles...in Yang's POV, of course.


	10. Shadow’s Conclusions, Part 3/3: (Yang POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing this chapter and really taking a deeper dive at the concept of sexuality, and what that really means for different people. Plus, it was just fun. Oh, so fun.

About two hours of lazing about on the sofa, I’ve nearly beaten the game I’ve been playing. Blake told me not to stay attached to my scroll all night, and to be honest, I’m kind of worried that neither one of them have come out of the bedroom. I put it away in my pocket before grabbing a sports drink from the kitchen's fridge. Making my way down the hall, I catch something, but my ears aren't as good as Blake's. The first thing I see when I open the door is a sight I honestly haven’t seen in months.

Weiss has her legs spread wide, Blake’s looming over her, fingers buried knuckles deep.

I don’t know how it happened. I don’t know why it happened. I’m not even going to ask how it happened, either.

I’m just going to let it happen.

I close the door and head back to the kitchen. After sex, there’s always something warm to drink. Blake favors green tea on her nights. I like hot chocolate with a splash of Irish cream on mine. Weiss always asks for whatever black tea we have in the house at the time. I hate black tea, but it’s not my night, so I put on the kettle and put away my sports drink. I go over to the booze cabinet and fish out the whiskey instead. The honey we keep on the spice rack.

The tea connoisseurs in the house complain that I bastardize the tea. If I have to drink it though, it’s going to have a shot of whiskey and a dash of honey, and that’s just the way it is. With the water on to warm I head back into the bedroom, where Blake is licking her fingers clean. Weiss has a beautiful pink dusting on her cheeks, but she’s not nearly as breathless as I know she can be.

I grin over to Blake.

“You look entirely too pleased with yourself, Blakey." Like that cat that got her cream. I don't say that though. That'll get me into trouble. "So, is this a two person rodeo, or…” I trail off, as I flick my eyes down to Weiss. She rolls onto her side, not really all there. Blue eyes still a little dazed.

“Careful with her, it’s not an easy orgasm night.” Blake says to me. Her eyes flick up to me. “Took us a while to work that one out. I don’t know if she can take another.”

I nod in sympathy.

With Weiss, that happens sometimes, especially if there’s too much on her mind. She’s not the sort of person who has an easy time being in the moment, but she’s too damn beautiful. I can’t really remember the last time she let us have our way with her. I hop onto the bed, and spoon her from behind. “If you want to go again babe, we’ll get ya there.” I say softly, because sometimes she doesn’t want it. Sometimes, she just gets frustrated, and I don’t really know how long they’ve been at this.

“Too soon.” She says so quietly that she’s probably embarrassed.

“Right, tea should be done soon. You want the usual?” I ask as I roll off the bed, doing away with my clothes left and right. If they’re both naked, no reason I shouldn’t be. Besides, I have something of a plan.

“Yes please.” Weiss murmurs, and she finally manages to look at me. “If it isn’t too much trouble.”

“I’ll go get the tea.” Blake says, leaning down to give Weiss a gentle kiss before the two of them break away. I don’t know what the hell I missed in here, but it seems they figured it out, so I guess that’s good enough. She makes a grab for her robe, though why she even does that I’ll never understand. The house is empty except for us. It’s not like she closes it, anyway. “Yang, you want yours doctored up, I presume?”

“Same as always.” I nod, the last of my clothes are off. I pull the covers back and sit on my side of the bed. Weiss still looks a little stuck in her own head. I’m going to help with that. Or at least I’ll do my best to try. “Come here, babe.”

Weiss scoots over to lay beside me, but that’s not what I want.

“Not like that.” She’s as light as a feather to me. I pick her up no problem, I want her on me. I want to feel her thighs sliding around my hips, skin to skin. “Like this.” She’s so slick between her legs, her core is a pretty pink. I slide my hands around her hips, down her thighs, up again to grab her ass. That’s when she looks away. I can’t help but smirk at the way she still shies away from my prolonged gaze. She probably thinks my head goes straight to the gutter. Either that, or she’s sitting there comparing my rack to hers again, and that never really ends well.

I pinch the fleshy part of her behind, holding back a laugh as she squeaks.

“Yang…”

It’s supposed to be an admonishment, but it lacks her usual bite.

“It’s not too soon. You just think that if you can’t get an orgasm, something’s wrong. Thing is, bodies don’t always work like that.” I say to her. She puts way too much weight in performance no matter if it’s work or sex. Really, it’s enough to give anyone anxiety. “I get that I have things way easier than you do, but sometimes this is my happy ending. This kind of thing, right here, there’s really no beating that.” I squeeze her butt again, pulling her a little closer. “Blake and I don’t always get off, either.”

“You always seem to, at least you do whenever I’m around.”

“Yeah, but Weiss, what we do with you is always only going to end one way for us. We know it’ll be vanilla sex with you, and we adjust our expectations where they belong for that. With enough stimulation, we’re gunna hit our peak.” I let my hands roam over her hips again, letting my palms rest on her thighs. “It’s pretty much a guarantee. Blake’s a total perv, and my body’s responsive as hell. Nothing wrong with taking things back to the basics.”

She’s more than a little self-conscious. She’s even mildly offended as she crosses her hands over her chest. “And how is that any different to what the two of you do when I’m not around?”

That’s actually a really good question, and I have no idea how to answer that. I grab her wrists and ease them down. I don't like when she hides her chest in the middle of a talk. I want her to get used to be open with her body and her mind.

“Well, I mean, putting the kinky stuff aside, it has a lot to do with what goes on up here.” I point at her head for emphasis. “Lots and lots of mental training, even little things you don’t think about, Blake and I probably have.”

“What do you mean?” She asks with a soft bite in her tone.

“Like, sometimes what we do isn’t about getting off, it’s about letting go.” I sigh. I really want her to understand, but I don’t know if she can. Some people just don’t. It’s not that they don’t try, it’s just that they never get it. “Life has a really good way with messing with our heads. It can get to us, sometimes, just like certain things get to you. It’s just that Blake and I found ways to cope that work better for us as a couple.”

“What did we find ways to cope with?” Blake asks, three mugs of tea in hand. Hers looks like mostly milk, though. I give her something of a look. She could probably easily hear our conversation.

“Everything." I say. "Well, actually, she wanted to know what we do when she’s not around."

"Really?" Blake asks.

"Yeah." I nod, not letting Weiss deny it. "She wants to know how it helps.”

Blake looks at me when I say that. I don't know what she's searching for, so I shrug as Blake hands me a mug of tea. I can smell the generous glob of melted honey from here. It’ll be plenty sweet.

“I was trying to explain that sometimes our night doesn’t end in orgasm for us, cause that’s never really the goal." I continue trying to explain. It'll be easier if these lovely ladies in my life are on the same page. I look back to Weiss, smiling to ease the worry I see on her expression. "For us, it’s more like a happy conscience. We’re not really looking for it, we just know it’ll happen.”

“Well I didn’t expect to hear that." Blake says, somewhat surprised. "Weiss, are you really that curious?” She asks, handing Weiss the cup of tea that isn’t filled with mostly cream.

“I never said that.” Weiss mutters. Her vague responses doom her. She might not have said that point blank, but, she’s not really denying implying her interest, either.

“Hmm.” Blake sounds, the soft hum between her lips was enough to raise an eyebrow. She goes to her side of the bed, slipping off her robe and laying it at the foot of the bed. Then she gets under the covers. “You _can_ be curious about the details, you know.”

“Right now, I’m just tired.” Weiss insists from behind the rim of her mug, hiding her expression. Her eyes look heavy, she probably is tired. “And I’m annoyed that I’m not like either one of you. I can’t just…” She trails off, making some sort of random motion with her hand. Then she looks away.

It’s hard for her to admit it, but she doesn’t need to.

We know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, Ruby's POV returns.


	11. Drifting Petals, Part 2/??: (Ruby POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weiss POV next. Something more lighthearted in the next three chapter segment as we follow the girls through a typical morning.
> 
> I still don't fully know what I want to do with Ruby...but that's fine for now. She has a few more POV's to go before I really have to commit to her future.
> 
> Also I think I'm going to continue updating every other day. I like that pace for something like this. It's not overbearing and keeps me on my toes. Anyway, see you all next chapter.

We finally found a house that we could afford, something that would give us more space.

It didn’t have the big yard I wanted, though. There weren't many places with yards where we were looking. Even if we did manage to get one, I don't think Blake would have ever let us get a pup. Still, the home was cool, and I even managed to get the shed as my own personal area. It was outfitted with electricity and everything, so, I considered it a compromise. The house was a two bedroom place, the master had an on suite bathroom. As we were packing our things and getting ready for the move, a lot of little truths started coming out. Weiss and I still shared a room at the time, so, watching her pack up seemed so final.

It bothered me, knowing at the new house we'd end up being separated.

Seeing them go furniture shopping was even worse. They compared beds and storage together. They picked paint colors, too. All sorts of little things they did together just hurt to think about. I smiled through all of it, but Weiss caught on because she always does.

She sat me down, we had another talk.

We seemed to have a lot of those. It hurt more that time. She told me how she came to have feelings for them. She explained that what she liked about Yang was that she wasn’t easily intimidated by anything. That the first time they’d had sex, it wasn’t going to be anything else. It was an experiment, and emotionally meaningless. Weiss would have been happy to leave it at that. Then it happened again, and again. Then, Yang wanted more, and she had the courage to push for it. She worked at it hard enough. It turns out, Yang was serious about her.

It hurt to hear all of the dirty details, but Weiss didn’t hold anything back.

It didn’t matter to her that I was hearing about my own sister. Weiss made a point about it. Making sure that I understood that Yang did what I had never been able to do. Yang had the experience, and the courage, to face down everything in Weiss that I’d never quite been able to reach. When I gave up, Yang hadn’t. She took the time to work through all of the massive insecurities that Weiss would have never faced down on her own.

Blake too.

In the end, they had earned their place in her life. They spent the time to teach her what it meant to care for another. I hadn’t done any of that. I just assumed if she had the capacity to love me, she would have. It never occurred to me that she would hold herself back. I thought that if she did, there wouldn't have been anything I could do anyway. The consequences of my inaction were easy to see. I cried when I realized I’d lost my chance a long time ago.

Weiss held me close, and that just made me want to cry more. I didn’t handle it well.

It took a little time, but Weiss eventually blabbed to the others. The long held personal secret that I’d been so careful to keep hidden, she just aired out like it was nothing. I probably shouldn't have hidden my feelings for so long. When the truth came out, Yang got mad at me for hiding it. Then, even though I really didn’t want them to, each one of them talked to me in their own way. They all promised me that as a team, we could make this work. That we would find some way to stay together as a group.

I knew that wasn’t going to happen. I could feel it, deep down.

They’d try their best.

I knew they would, but I also knew that would never be good enough. Life went on like it always had. More or less.

A team of four had become a relationship for three, and my exclusion in that was unavoidable. The new house was great, but my room was lonely and way too big to use it all on my own. I started sleeping in my shed. On missions, they tried to keep their relationship under wraps, but that just made it worse. I could see them holding back, and I didn’t want that. I started taking solo missions, and they stayed home. Sometimes, they took missions of their own.

We went on like that for a little while, and it seemed to work.

My solo missions took me all across Remnant. Most of the time, I was just flying around transporting documents. Other times I’d tag Grimm for migratory patterns. Sometimes I'd hunt out a nest or two. Rarely though, I’d be sent as an ambassador from Vale to Atlas. Those were the missions I liked best. Winter would show me around Atlas Academy, and give me a catalogue of the latest technology. I was allowed to sit in on classes, watching the teachers and the students spend their days together. I would come back to Vale with a full report on everything I’d seen, and deliver any technology they’d sent on good faith.

Then I'd go home, and my team would be there. For a few nights, we'd be together until I left again. I finally felt like things were going to work out. I could have gone on like that forever. I would have been happy, if things had just stayed the same.

Then, the worst happened. Weiss got a phone call saying that her dad was ill. He was poisoned in an attack against the company. He was no longer able to keep up with it. Her little brother was in no position to try to lead it, either. She had to go back to Atlas, and she wanted us to go with her.

The writing was on the wall.

We weren’t going as a team. Yang and Blake were going as lovers.

And as for me?

I was just the outsider looking in.


	12. Typical Morning, Part 1/3: (Weiss POV)

The alarm sits on Yang’s side of the bed, it rings at six in the morning Monday to Friday like clockwork. If I’m lucky I can sneak away before she rolls over to smash the snooze button. If I can’t, Blake will usually cling to me, keeping me in bed until the snooze alarm goes off. Our day begins with simple greetings, soft touches, tender kisses. Assurance that what we’re doing isn’t some colossal mistake. I enter the bathroom first, and I always close the door behind me if I plan to use the toilet.

My personal business is my own, and unlike Yang, I prefer to keep it that way.

My showers are as quick as I can make them. My routine takes the longest between untangling my hair and making sure my clothing is as tidy as can be. I keep a tight morning schedule. I’m the only breadwinner among us, however that’s not entirely by choice. Blake’s still avidly looking for a job in Atlas that she can stand. She wants and needs the respect of her peers, and in Atlas that’s hard to come by. She doesn’t have to work. Honestly, I like the idea of keeping her safe at home. Atlas isn’t made for a Faunus that cares for a Schnee.

Blake will always be in danger because of that.

While I’m tending to my hygiene, Blake or Yang manages the breakfast. One of them also scans the prominent media outlets for anything remotely problematic to the Schnee family name, or the company. They say they do it as a favor, but really I think they do it to gauge my mood. Bad media always leaves me in a foul temper.

Our morning meals are usually quiet.

Blake doesn’t appreciate racket so early in the morning, and Yang has almost learned not to provoke her. Meanwhile, my eyes are generally on the stocks. After our meal it’s a coin toss between which one of them showers first, and who does the dishes. I bow out of that ensuing debate and make my way to my office. Whoever’s in charge of dishes makes sure I have enough coffee in the pot for me to sip on thought the day.

I used to simply keep a coffee pot in the office, but that had long since been vetoed. Now I have to venture into the kitchen to get my fix.

My morning is nothing more than work relate drama. One setback after another. The company is large. With so many departments, there’s always something going wrong. The most common problems are clerical. Next are management related. Occasionally I catch wind of Grimm related complications. Though, depending on the mining town, contagious viruses and dust related mishaps reach my desk all too often for my liking. It's my job to deal with all of it to the best of my ability.

Sometime before the noonday break, I make sure to call my father to check in on his condition. If Whitley doesn’t stop by, I’m forced to call him too. Provided all of that goes smoothly and that there haven’t been random White Fang incidents I consider myself lucky.

Today, I take an early lunch. It isn't because I enjoy doing that, but rather, that I'd lose my temper with my employees if I don't extract myself from the current situation.

“You look pissed.” Yang says, to me when I walk into the kitchen. “Do I want to know?”

“Even if you didn’t, you’re going to find out eventually. That bombastic idiot you call an uncle is at it again.” I sigh, tossing an incident report onto the counter. I've looked at it enough today. “Fair warning, Yang, he’s made a rather large mess of things over in Atlas Academy.” I pull the hair clip off of the back of my chair, using it to pull my hair back and out of the way. White hair stains too easily for me to risk leaving it free while I take a meal.

“Again?” Yang asks as she steps around the island counter with two plates. A chicken salad arranged on each. Well, as arranged as Yang could ever possibly achieve. “I could probably kick his ass, if you’d like.” She says, setting a plate in front of me.

“Roughhousing like that won't help. Besides, that's probably what started the mess in the first place.” I reach for the oil and vinegar that sits at the center of the table, using both sparingly.

“Yeah, I wouldn't doubt it.” She doesn’t even sound surprised anymore. “So, what’d he do this time?”

“Oh, you know, the usual.” I explain, folding the cloth napkin over my lap while I’m waiting for Yang to get situated and join me. “There was a scuffle of some nature. It caused collateral damage to the academy. New cement needs to be poured, and the pavilion needs to be repaired. He’s been _kindly_ offered an extended stay at Atlas Academy.”

“And by that, you mean he’s been arrested again.”

“Indeed. Care to take a guess at the charge?”

“Don’t need to. Drunk and disorderly conduct.” Yang says, on her way back from the oven. A plate of warmed pita bread waits in her hands. I only need to nod at her, as those beautiful lilac eyes roll upward. “It figures, he's always smashing things up when he's tipsy.”

“Indeed. We could just leave him there. Though I doubt he’d learn his lesson.”

“He never does.” Yang agrees, there’s still a knowing fondness in her voice, despite the added edge of agitation. "Though if we do, he'll probably wreck the place more trying to get out."

I hate to say it, but that is a very real possibility. “Well, let's avoid that, shall we? He’s going to need bail money. Take it out of the joint account.”

“You sure you want me to do that? He'll just cause more racket once he's let out again.” Her smirk humorless as she sets it down between us and takes her seat.

"He will, but, you'll be there to keep him in line."

“I’m sorry you have to deal with all this.”

“Don’t be, this entire debacle isn’t exactly Qrow’s fault this time. Although, if it was, it would have certainly saved me a headache.” I explain, smiling when Yang looks to me questioningly with a bite of food. She’s long since learned not to talk with her moth full. “Ozpin could send anybody, and yet, he sends Qrow. You’d think he would have learned by now just what sort of powder keg that turns out to be.”

“Well it used to be Ruby.” Yang says with a laugh. “I think she spoiled Oz with her eagerness to get out of the house so much.”

“Be that as it may, Atlas Academy doesn’t have someone like Glynda Goodwitch to clean up Qrow’s mess.” I say knowingly, digging into my meal with less gusto than Yang. The chicken is adequate, and the bread in warm. There’s little to dislike about any of it. I’m just glad we get to spend this time together. “Naturally, I’m the first person James rants at. As if I can do anything to keep Qrow in line.”

“As if…” Yang snorts.

There’s a peaceful silence that falls over the kitchen at that. As we clear our plates the time slowly gets away from us. My lunch with Yang ends all too soon, and back into the office I go.

A long afternoon awaits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have funeral arrangements and preparation to tend to for the rest of the week (hence why this is a late). My cousin passed away over the weekend from a drug overdose. I'd like to take this time to say that this is exactly the sort of tragedy that could have been prevented by seeking help and following through with that help. I realize addiction is a complicated matter. My cousin was a struggling addict that battled her vices for over 40 years. It was an uphill climb all the time, and the amount of moral support she needed just to make it day by day was exhausting for everyone involved.
> 
> I guess that's what makes this so hard. We were fighting her vices with her, to the best of our abilities.
> 
> If you are a true addict (of anything) and it's inhibiting your life, get the help you need and STICK WITH IT. If you fall off the wagon, get back on. Don't let your addiction win. Don't let it beat you. At the end of the day, there is no easy answer to addiction, there is only perseverance.
> 
> I guess what I'm trying to say, is the inevitable alternative really fucking sucks. Don't lose to addiction. Don't leave the people you love behind.


	13. Typical Morning, Part 2/3: (Blake POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written well before the fiction began getting posted, and was one of the chapters that really helped to conceptualize the idea of "daily life" with a loved one. I think anyone who's had a live-in relationship with someone encounters that moment of "Normally I love you, but right now, I really hate you". If you haven't, wait long enough, and likely, you will.
> 
> I also think that on a character development level, things like that probably happen more between Yang and Blake than any other combination of the triad. So that's how this chapter came to be.

I hate that stupid alarm clock.

“Blake, let go. I have to get ready for work.”

Now, I really hate that stupid alarm clock. “Too early.”

“Don't be ridiculous. I can’t risk falling back to sleep.”

One of these days, I’m just going to smash that stupid clock with a hammer. "Stay put."

“Snooze’ll go off in a bit.” Yang mumbles against my shoulder.

She sounds groggy. Her lips are pressed against the skin of my shoulder, and her arm is moving around very suspiciously.

“Yang… I know that’s you.” Weiss mutters.

“Mm…sure is.”

“…Stop fiddling with my breast.”

“Okay.”

“…And my butt.”

“Fine.”

Oh, great, they’re both full of piss and vinegar. This won’t end well.

“What’s today look like for everyone?” Weiss asks, and it’s entirely too early for that.

“Job interview.” I grumble, pulling her closer.

“Sleeping.” Yang insists.

The alarm clock goes off again, Yang smacks it again, and Weiss escapes my grasp…again.

I crack an eye open in the darkness. Even that’s too bright for me sometimes. Night vision isn’t always a blessing. I turn over, growling into my pillow before I force myself to wake up.

Stupid clock…

When Weiss stumbles into the bathroom this morning at exactly six-ten sharp, I have to try and pry Yang out of bed. If I let her sleep in, she’ll drive us crazy all night long. Her restless tossing and turning is bad enough when she doesn’t sleep half of the day away. Even once I have her sitting upright, she’ll sit there for a while just yawning and fluffing at her messy head of hair.

I sympathize. I’d roll over and ignore the world too, if I could.

I’ve already decided that I’m in no mood for her high cholesterol and sugary sweet concept of breakfast. If I leave it up to her, Yang will start our day full of salty ham, greasy bacon, sausage links, fried eggs, and pancakes loaded with butter and syrup. That’s not to say I hate indulgent breakfasts. It’s just that after filling up on garbage, we all tend to feel sluggish. I have a job interview today, I can’t risk indigestion.

I grab my robe from the foot of the bed, putting it on along with a red cotton pair of panties. I slip a liner on the inside. Yang will know what that means. As I head out of the room, her eyes fixate on my butt as I head towards the kitchen. I hold back a soft laugh as I hear a muted thud, as if she leaned too far to one side and fell out of bed. By the time Yang makes her way out of the bedroom, I already have the coffee going.

She stumbles into the small corner bathroom by the front of the house. “Babe what are you making?” She asks, loud enough for her voice to echo off of the wall. I get that Yang doesn’t have a filter, but does she have to be so loud?

“A ham and cheese omelet.” I say simply, seeing no need to yell as I toss several egg shells in the trash.

“Yeah, but what about the sides?” Yang and her food. It’s like she has a one track mind. I glare daggers at the coffee pot, willing it to percolate faster. “Babe?”

I sigh before I answer. “I assumed toast and jam.”

“Dammit!” Well, that sounded more agitated than usual.

“Let me guess," I grouse offhandedly. "You wanted some actual meat to go on the side?”

“No, I want some god-damn toilet paper.” I hear a few drawers open and shut. Then a pause, along with a few more slamming drawers. “There are no dudes in this house! How in the hell do you people let this happen?”

Oh. My. God. She better not blame me for this. Yang’s about to get on my last verve. “Check under the sink, Yang.”

“I did.” I hear, before she checks it again. “Okay, what the actual hell?”

She’s such a scatter brain when she’s not paying attention. This is why we don’t let her put things away. “It’s there, trust me. You put four rolls under the sink. They’re in the same bin as the pads and tampons.”

“You’re kidding.” Yang shouts across the house, the large door under the sink squeaking open before slamming shut. The snap of a plastic container comes next. “Oh, son of a… Why would I go and do something stupid like that?!”

“Beats the hell out of me.” I mumble dryly. It’s too early for this. I return to my task of cooking as the toilet flushes and the sink starts to run.

When Yang finally comes into the kitchen looking more human than zombie, her nose is pressed to her scroll. She’s looking for any massive problems in the headlines. Meanwhile, I’m drowning myself in my first cup of coffee. It’s almost too strong, and very bitter, but right now, I just can’t bring myself to care. This glorious little drink is how I measure my morning, without it, I’d lose my mind.

When Weiss comes into the kitchen, she’s fully clothed, ready for her day ahead. She always pulls her hair back and clips it before breakfast. She never risks it getting in her food before work. It’s not even seven thirty, and she has her scroll in one ear, and her hologram wrist watch displaying on the other. She makes a beeline for the coffee pot, kissing me on the cheek in passing. She’s so distracted, I don’t even think she realized she did it.

I suppose it doesn’t matter, I appreciate the gesture all the same.

Cup of coffee in hand, she greets Yang the same way, the three of us sitting down to breakfast just as soon as the oven beeps. It's just a typical start, to a typical day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a more serious note, I'm still not back full time, and updates will be spaced out a bit for a while. However, I really wanted to thank everyone for their kind words regarding the loss of my cousin that occurred last weekend. The funeral was yesterday, and in the coming days we're going to properly distribute her belongings around the family, cancel certain services, and settle the rest of the bills/expenditures that need to be made.
> 
> A death in the family is, frankly, very expensive on all fronts. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
> 
> Emotionally, the costs are too numerous to explain. Monetarily, the costs are crippling to low and middle class families. Here in the USA, it can cost thousands of dollars if you aren't careful. Physically, it's an exhausting situation for all involved. So, in the hopes that this may prevent another tragedy that could have been prevented, I'm going to be a squeaky wheel and say this one final time.
> 
> If you are a true addict (of anything), and it is inhibiting your life, don't let your addiction win. Please, please, please get the help you need. Ask your friends and family for the moral support you need. Use the services in your country at your disposal. Call your assigned help lines, and reach out to your community services. The services are there to be utilized, so please, use them.
> 
> That's all I'll say on the subject anymore, I promise.
> 
> Anyway, see you all in the next chapter.


	14. Typical Morning, Part 3/3: (Yang POV)

Monday through Friday, the alarm makes racket at six sharp. On the weekends, we get to relax and sleep in a little. It doesn’t ring until eight, eight thirty if I hit the snooze. On this blissful Saturday morning I bury myself under the thick blankets and pretend light isn’t streaming through the window of the sliding door. It's on my side of the bed, which is even worse. There’s this small line of daylight that manages to smack me in the face if I’m lying on the wrong side.

I grumble and stretch, rolling over to get a face full of wavy black hair instead. Blake's Faunus ear flicks me in the nose, fluttering against my breath as she swats me away sleepily. Her ears are unbelievably sensitive, and ticklish. I pull her tight against me, tucking her head under my chin so I don't bother her.

“Don’t go back to sleep.” Blake murmurs tiredly against the pillow. “Weiss is already in the kitchen making coffee.”

Logically, that makes sense. Personally, I I’m tempted to go get her and haul her tight little ass back into bed. “Why did we fall for a morning person?”

A small huff and a tired laugh later, and Blake rolls over to face me. “She isn’t.”

“Could have fooled me.” I really don’t want to get up. I just want to lay here all day, letting the world go on without me. I’ve done it enough times to know that it won’t end. The sun will just smack me in the face again tomorrow, just like always. Besides, there’s plenty of things to attend to, like the sleepy kitty Faunus absently cuddling into my boob. “Having fun there, Blakey?”

“No more fun than you usually have.” She point out tiredly. I smirk, toying around with the shoulder strap of the silky nightshirt she wore to bed. "I hate shirts, they always get in the way of a good time."

“So, is that why you’re wearing the nightshirt? Have I landed myself in the doghouse for some unknown reason, or something?”

Blake murmurs something but I don’t quite catch it as she yawns. I find myself forcing down a laugh when a lazy purr follows after it, the kitty ears atop her head folding slightly at the tips. A sure sign that she’s not nearly as ready to get up as she seems. Her legs are bare, but I feel a pesky pair of panties where she’s pressed against my hip, telling me that the shirt isn’t all that she’s wearing. I sigh, making an educated guess.

The cut and the style of our underwear doesn’t matter. Only the color does.

Black means no touchy. If either of my girls are wearing it, no sex, it’s that simple.

Red’s a warning for impending shark week. Blake and I are the only ones who wear it. If the red tide is in, expect migraines, general bitchiness, and in Blake's case cramps. That, and shower sex is the only way anyone is getting lucky. Of course, just the thought of that grosses Weiss out. She never wears red, only black.

Anything else is fair game. Sexy times are a free for all.

I know for a fact she’s got to be wearing red.

“Come on.” She say to me, dragging herself upright. “We should get up too.”

"Do we have to?" I ask, because really, I'm right where I wanna be.

"I don't know, Yang, you tell me. Do you want to risk Weiss wandering into the office while she thinks we're sleeping?"

"Well... Damn it..."

We both forego getting dressed for the moment, grabbing our robes off of the hanger in the corner. Together, we head out to the kitchen where Weiss is already standing over the stove, pancake batter and sausage already waiting to start sizzling away on the flat surface of the pan. The weekends are the only time Weiss ever offers to cook a meal, mostly because it’s the only time she ever has to do it. Blake and I stay out of her way when she does. It's such a rare treat, we don't want to steal her thunder.

“Good morning.” I say, and Blake offers the same greeting as she stifles another yawn.

“To you as well.” Weiss says casually. “I was going to bring you breakfast in bed, but, it seems you've already removed yourselves from it.”

“I’ll settle for breakfast at the table.” I laugh, frowning when a soft sound of unease breaks through Blake’s cool demeanor. “You okay, Blake?” The Faunus nods, but says nothing, sliding the paper towards me. Once again, the youngest Schnee made front page news, Whitley standing side by side with a young man with absolutely no wealth or family name to speak of. “Uh, that’s a thing…”

“Oh, please, don’t tell me you two actually believe that tripe.” Weiss scoffed from her place, turning to face us as she reaches across the counter for the fruit bowl. “Ever since I came out of the closet with you two at my heels, the media has had a field day painting my family as a bunch of blue blooded degenerates."

"That's putting it mildly." Blake gently bites out.

"Can you blame them?" Weiss asks then, the question isn't one needing a reply. "Between Winter leaving for the military, and my obviously absurd relationship with you two, it was only a matter of time before something like this happened.”

“Looks pretty convincing to me.” I mumble.

“The tabloids will do absolutely anything to turn my brother gay.” She says offhandedly as she begins to peel an orange.

“Well, has he ever had a girlfriend before?” I've never heard of him having one, at least.

Weiss rolls her eyes at me, her lips pulling upwards in amusement. “Yang, he’s a Schnee. He doesn’t choose who to date, and even if he could, it would be seen as uncouth. Before Winter and I wiggled out from under our father’s thumb, he always arranged our gatherings himself.” She sighed then, as if thinking on that before shaking her head. “Besides, even if Whitley were gay, that really isn’t anyone’s business besides his own.”

We leave it at that, mostly because she’s right. It's not really something I have to concern myself over. If Weiss isn't worried about it, I won't be either.

After breakfast, Weiss locks herself away in the office to deal with the media.

I had been planning to catch Blakey off her guard and see if I couldn’t get lucky on this cold, sleet filled morning. Instead, I nibble my lower lip as I watch Blake curl into the corner of the sofa, sulking as she glares daggers at the fireplace. A burning envelope within the embers mean that whatever it was, Blake decided to destroy it. Knowing her attitude about employment recently, I’ll bet anything that it was another rejection letter.

I suck on the inside of my teeth, trying to think of a way to take the sting out of the obvious insult to Blake’s race. “So let me guess, the position was filled by a more qualified individual. Thank you for your interest, but, you will not be needed?” I say, quoting what so many others have said.

“Sometimes, I think I should go back to hunting Grimm.” Blake says in a way that tells me she had probably considered it. “I just can’t get over the audacity Atlas seems to have. They’ll go to just about any length to keep a Faunus from succeeding. I've never seen anything like it. It's on a whole other level.” She looks to me then, frowning. "I was told stories in the White Fang, and I saw a few things myself, but none of it really sunk in until now."

Which, honestly, was probably why being a huntress was something Blake wanted to start doing again. It was one of the few jobs that openly allowed Faunus gainful employment. I didn’t want to think about that.

“We agreed we’d stay as far away from the military as possible, for Ruby’s sake.” I say coming fully into the room and sitting down beside her. “Hunting Grimm can only be done if you’re part of the Hunter's Division. We’d need special permission from Ironwood.”

“I wouldn’t actually go that far.” Blake shrugged out of the small ball that she had curled into. Instead she stood, grabbing a thick log and heaving it into the fireplace. The crackling flames engulfed it happily. “I’m just sick of getting all of these rejections where the cause is a blatant lie. They might as well come out and say it. I’m not stupid.”

“Maybe you really just weren’t qualified?” I can hope it was a legitimate complaint this time, can’t I?

“To be a cashier, really?”

I wince. “Okay, so that person was an asshole.”

“According to you, they’re all assholes.”

Weiss calls it a calculated response.

Racism in Atlas doesn’t have the same sort of political backing that it had when she was a child. Businesses can’t exactly get away publicly with refusing to hire someone strictly because they’re Faunus. Although, that doesn’t mean businesses won’t lie through their teeth, either. Atlas has almost double the unemployment rates for Faunus than any other kingdom, and that can’t be a coincidence.

Especially when you consider that there are less Faunus populating Atlas than Vale or Vacuo.

“If you insist on getting a job, why not work for someone you actually know?” I ask, it’s probably a stupid question. Blake just looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “What? We know lots of people, Blake. Word on social media is that Flynt’s working on getting his dad’s shop up and running again. You could go work for him.”

“Talk about something I’m not actually qualified for. Flynt would literally laugh in my face.” Blake mutters, reaching for the empty glass sitting on the mantle, she fills it part of the way with a dry red wine from the cellar. An unopened bar of dark chocolate follows. Then she sits back down and leans against me, ripping open the wrapper. “Do you realize the amount work that goes into the sale and distribution of dust?"

"Uh... nope."

"It's way more than you realize. I know the trade to some extent, but I also know that the White Fang had experts on this subject for a reason." Blake explains. "There’s so much more to know about dust than what we were taught in Beacon. I wouldn’t be able to pass the exam to earn a distribution license even if I tried. You have to go to school strictly for that, or pass the test, and good luck doing that without the schooling.”

That might be the case. However, we also have one of the leading experts in the dust trade sleeping in our bed every night. Let's not forget that not-so-little-detail, shall we? “Blake, Weiss owns the SDC. She could help you muddle through what you don’t understand.”

“And where do you suppose she would find the time to do that?”

Well… Crap.

“We crammed our way through Beacon, if we really wanted, we could do it all over again for anything you wanted to do. You’ll think of something, Blake.” At least, I hope she will. “Until then, I know Weiss likes you being around the house, so it’s not like you have to rush into anything. You can take your time.”

Weiss needs her here right now anyway. She won’t say that, because she doesn’t want to tie Blake’s options down. I don’t say anything about that either, since that’s not really my place. I can’t help but feel like we’re both falling into line right behind Weiss, doing what she needs. That’s just the number one priority in our lives right now. I can see how that would make someone like Blake uneasy, though.

Blake says nothing, sipping on the wine instead as she sets it off to the side. She presses a square of dark chocolate gently to my lips in offering. Really, it’s just her way of telling me to shut up.

I kiss the tips of her fingers as I accept the chocolate, and the promise of a few quiet hours cuddling by the fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next arc is six chapters long, and will begin to slowly explore the explicit rating in earnest, more tags will obviously be added when they're needed. For now, we get to see Yang's idea of a typical morning during a lazy weekend.


	15. Fireside Warmth, Part 1/6: (Weiss POV)

It was foolish to think that Whitley could escape the eyes of the press for long, or, that our father wouldn’t have something to say on the topic.

I was called to the manor, but once I arrived, Father completely forgot the reason he had summoned me in the first place. I have to take the time to remind him that the media is doing the best it can in order to slander the Schnee family name. Whitley is nowhere to be found, likely hiding from our father’s questionable temper. If I were still trapped in this house, I would be doing the same.

Standing motionless, I wait for the man in front of me to say something. It takes a while before he manages to find the words he needs.

“So, you’ve seen what the news articles have to say about your brother.” He begins with a foregone conclusion. “You’ve got something planned to deal with this whole mess, haven’t you?”

“Yes, father.” I have to do my best not to roll my eyes.

“What will you do?”

“I’ve chosen to wait it out. The media will bore themselves eventually.” Frankly, what other choice do I have? The fact remains that I simply do not have the sort of leverage my father once commanded. I have to do my best with what I have at my own disposal, which to be far, is not nearly enough.

“That’s all?”

I don’t know what he expects out of me, but yes, waiting is the only solution I have. “Does there truly need to be anything more? This isn’t a decision I made lightly.”

“Isn’t it, though?” He asks, and I honestly wonder if we’re discussing the same overblown tabloid.

“I certainly I don’t plan to confront Whitley about this, if that’s what you mean.” I say firmly. “At least, not over something as insignificant as this. If there comes a time when he confirms or denies these allegations, then I may act on the matter.” Correction; I would be forced to act on the matter. I certainly hope Whitley responds decisively when he does choose to make a statement. “For now, these are merely rumors, and we shouldn’t act on them.”

Father grumbles softly to himself, but I can’t hear what he says. Finally he looks up at me. “What are your thoughts on the matter?”

“Honestly, I see it strictly as it is, a poorly timed photo at the local theater.”

“That isn’t what I meant.” My father mutters then, his eyebrows knitting together.

“Then what do you mean?” I ask, wondering where his mind has wandered to.

He looks down to his china cup that had once been filled with coffee. It’s been empty for a while now. Frustrated he reaches for the small oak box that he keeps his chocolates in, only to find the ones made with champagne have been replaced with ones without. Knowing that displeases him. It conflicts with his medication, and he often forgets that. He closes the box with a harsh clack. He looks to me, and I see a tiny spark of the man I used to know.

It’s only then, with his fury burning anew, that he remembers that we were in the middle of an important discussion.

“What do you think of Whitley’s deviance?” He manages to ask.

“I don’t think on it. It’s really none of my concern what inclination Whitley may or may not have.” I say gently, because doing anything else would upset the man in front of me. “For all that I know, he may not even be interested in either gender. It’s never been a topic we’ve ever felt the need to discuss.”

“Oh, I see.” He looks down at his desk, eyeing it. For what reason, I haven’t a clue. “Is that so?”

“Is it still truly a concern of yours?” I feel the need to ask, because this is one argument I’m done having with him. “You should know my inclinations color my stance on this subject. Just because your aiming your views at Whitley, doesn't mean that I have to tolerate them.”

Far from it, in fact.

Father's lips twist, the mustache ruffling as he thinks on my statement. He sighs before looking back to me, as if I might somehow influence his answer. Instead, his gaze gets lost in the void between us. A flash of unease crosses his features. He looks to me once more before helplessly glancing anywhere else around the room. Confusion clear as day, plastered across his face. Then, it’s as if he remembers himself, or at least, a fragment of who he used to be.

“Damn that boy.” My father barks then, hand slapping down harsh onto his desk as he stands. “And damn _you_ for putting such foul notions into his head!”

I won’t get any further with him today. Leaving and coming back another time might prove beneficial. “Seeing as I’ve displeased you, I’ll remove myself from your sight.” I say, doing just that as I leave his small office nestled within the safety of the manor. Klein waits outside, offering me a pitying glance as he sighs.

“I cannot believe you put up with that.” I can only scoff, agitated. “Is this how he always is?”

Klein nods softly. “I take it that the meeting did not go well?”

“Did you even expect it to?” I ask in reply, though heat has already left my voice.

“You should return home. I have a feeling those friends of yours could do more for your spirit than I could ever do here.” He says in a way that is far more paternal than I have ever received from my own father. He knows this manor’s oppressive walls could never be my home. He reaches out to take my hand in his.I let him offer me the simple comfort. We walk quietly to the front of the household, towards the front door.

Hand in hand, with his thumb brushing along my knuckles, I feel his wordless support.

That’s the one thing I’ve always liked about Klein. He knows the depths of my moods without me having to tell him. There are times when hot chocolate and an open ear will soothe me, but he knows this is not one of them. I don’t have to go through the efforts to explain why. In fact, I’m sure the truth plagues Klein in much the same way.

Father is not himself these days…

He is not the man I knew. His temper is twice as volatile, but his rationalization for that rage has slipped his grasp. He no longer truly understands the hate he harbors, or from what depths of his mind it spews out from. Though he’s been released from the hospital, he will never recover beyond this point. The clarity in his blue eyes will never again be the same as it was before. He’s not even a shadow of his former image.

He’s just a husk now, his greater perceptions have escaped him.

More often than not, his gaze is like glass. He has to work hard to cobble together his thoughts, and even once he does, they are not as forthright as they used to be. He frowns a lot nowadays. He’s less decisive, and always second guessing himself. Rumor has it that he mutters to himself more often than not, locking himself away for hours on end. Some call him paranoid, perhaps he is.

Either way, there’s no question that my father has become somewhat delusional.

Before I came to claim the company, he would sit and stew over the same standard document for hours. He wouldn’t quite know what to do. Whitley didn’t know a thing about maintaining a firm hand of power, either. The position is ruthless, and corporate greed is a strong force to battle against. Like anything else, it doesn’t wait for a worthy adversary. It strikes at the opportune time, and Whitley was a weakness our father never thought to protect the company against.

It’s no wonder that sneaky board members got their clutches in deep while I was away. Twisting company profits for their personal gain, and undermining what little sanity my father had left to pass insidious documentation. The paper trail extends to newly certified clientele records, some of them extending to wealthy radicals that my family would have never done business with.

To be honest though, I’m not surprised any of it happened.

I’m only shocked that it didn’t happen sooner. It was truly only matter of time. Unfortunately, the company remains in a state of total disarray, even when I’m at the helm.

I’m a woman after all, my father’s second daughter. It looks terrible to the press that Winter refused to stand where I am, and that Whitley is completely incapable of it. We’ve lost a lot of face among our economic equals. What little support we do have comes in the form of atlesian honor and duty bound legacy. I’m reliant on the same funding my grandfather once cultivated. Some of these people hail from bloodlines even greater even my own heritage, offering the political backing to keep the company afloat.

Bluebloods will cling to others of their ilk, even those like me, if it gives them an excuse segregate the masses from themselves.

In their eyes I may be a disgrace as a Schnee, but, I am still _at least_ a Schnee. By blood and bone, if nothing else, I have a right to the company if no one is to claim it. That’s more than any other up and coming pioneer in the dust industry. Particularly those with far less clout than my own. Even if very little else is a guarantee, that’s a fact.

Klein’s right though. Even as he leads me to the front door, he is not the one I need at my side right now.

All I want to do is go home, and bury myself in the first set of waiting arms that I find. I need that tiny glimmer of normalcy now.

Love is a difficult word, and it tastes taboo on my tongue. It’s not that I disapprove of it, but rather, that my life has always seemed to lack it. I know what it means, I understand the sentiment. It’s simply that I sometimes doubt it’s possible, and others, I think it’s completely idiotic. Rationally, I know those are just my deeper fears playing against my history. Still, it would be a little convoluted to suggest that a relationship like ours could survive without it.

Without love…

Then again, if I’m going to call societal taboos into question, the proceedings going on at our kitchen table do just fine as well. The fact that I share a bed with Yang and Blake tends to be taboo enough.

“I don’t know how I feel about using that one. What’s it made of?” I hear Yang say as I enter in from the hallway. 

“Cotton.” Blake replies simply.

 Yang looks conflicted, her eyes glancing up to me. I wave at her, but I don't want to interrupt. She turns her gaze back to Blake, frowning. “Cotton, huh. That’s probably a bad idea, then.”

Blake has her back to me, but I can hear the soft smile in her voice as she speaks. “It’ll restrain me, no doubt in that. I’m nowhere near as strong as you.”

“What I meant was, I don’t know if I should be the one using that on you. That’s not a good beginner’s rope, Blakey. Cotton tends to be stretchy and it doesn’t always hold knots well.”

Blake seems to consider that as she turns to glance my way, she's fine with me being in this kitchen for this. She turns back to Yang. “Well, what about hemp, then?”

“Won’t that be really uncomfortable for you, though? I know you don’t like prickly things.”

“That's the compromise, I suppose." Blake says with a shrug. "I suggested hemp because it _does_ hold knots well. If you’re worried that the cotton won’t do what you want it to, the hemp will definitely stay where you put it. It’s a give and take.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the most comfortable thing, and most of all, I really want you to enjoy this.”

“You’re not a complete novice at rope work, Yang." Blake says with a soft hum, almost a purr, in her voice. "I trust you to know the types of bindings you can handle safely by now.”

“Yeah, but, _I don’t trust me_." Yang says, coughing a bit worriedly into her hand. "So, what about one of the silk ones?”

“If you’re still worried about using rope work on me, we don’t have to do it." Blake finally sighs gently, a few drops of amusement dancing in her voice. "I don’t mind just using the handcuffs instead.”

“No, no, it’s fine. You said you wanted to try something a little more elaborate, and I told you that I’d give it a try. Besides, I already called Ren, and he said he’d keep an eye on things.”

It’s times like these that I feel grossly inadequate. I don't have anything constructive to add. Blake’s laid her entire rope collection out on the table. The two of them are discussing which one to use to great length, and I don't even know where to begin. I have a very perfunctory idea of what exactly they do with it, but I have no idea why they’re involving Ren, or why Yang might call him in the first place.

I clear my throat. "I don’t understand. Why you would call Ren?” I ask, causing the two of them to look up at me.

“Yang’s not nearly as proficient with restraints as I am.” Blake says as she rubs her thumb along the cotton rope in her hands. “Normally, I’m the one tying her up, not the other way around. In BDSM, when you’re not confidant about doing something, it’s important to have someone around that is. In this case, it’s bondage. Preferably, the one supervising should be a different person than the one being tied up.”

“I see…” I step over to the table, the collection really is quite massive. I reach for one of smaller ropes. It’s soft and smooth to the touch. “And you say you are proficient?”

“Yes, that does tend to happen when you take tea with Yatsuhashi and Ren one too many times. They’re both very skilled at rope work Ren will be helping Yang to learn.” Blake says, though I already know she’s been trained by Yatsuhashi. “If you’re interested, you could watch if you wanted. You might even enjoy it”

I don’t know how I feel about it, to be honest. Really, the thing that bothers me the most right now is the idea that a man might be seeing either one of them in questionable stages of undress. I also know that it doesn’t have to be either one of those boys. My eyes flick over to Blake. She wouldn’t have such an extensive collection of Coco Adel products unless she’d received them as gifts. Coco’s little side business is nothing if not a deviant’s wet dream.

That’s where most of these ropes have come from. Her logo has been plastered on all of the packaging, I’d be a fool not to see it. There’s no possible way Blake could afford these without using my card to make the purchases.

“Why Ren?” It’s really the only thing I can force out of my mouth. “Why not Coco?”

“He’s good at it.” Yang says. “Not that Coco isn’t. She’s great too, it’s just different with her.” I can see the way Yang scowls, as if the cogs are turning in her head. “I don’t know, I’m not not as comfortable around her or something. It’s a vibe I get. She’s a good person, don’t get me wrong, I would just rather have Ren be here instead.”

“Honestly, I’d rather it be Ren as well, if I’m being completely honest.” Blake adds in.

“And that he’s a man doesn’t bother you?” I deadpan, because frankly, it bothers me.

“Well, no, but that’s because Ren’s seen all there is to really see of me at this point.” Blake says, but doesn’t elaborate why that might be. “He has absolutely no sexual interest in me, either. The same cannot be said for Coco, and that _does_ bother me.”

It goes unsaid that Coco tends to be interested in anyone with good looks and an ounce of fashion sense.

I sigh, relenting the point.

When I think about it like that, I’d rather Ren as well. I have absolutely no idea what that says about me as a person, but I really don’t want to think about that, either. “You know, you did take tea with those boys at Beacon more often than you like to admit.” I say offhandedly as I set the rope down. “In Vale after graduation, too.” The latter, I suspect, is where she began to learn the skill.

“Weiss?” Blake murmurs questioningly.

“It’s nothing.” I wave it off and shut down the conversation. I don’t really understand this darker world of theirs.

Part of me doesn’t want to, either.

There’s a second part of me that believes I have no choice in the matter. That I _have_ to match them in this, purely because if I don’t, that’s just inadequate. The idea that anything even remotely extends beyond the three of us isn’t something I’ve ever considered. It’s not something I want to continue thinking about. I head to the chill-chest, there’s a bowl of slice up fruit waiting inside. That’ll do for a quick meal.

Now all I need is an excuse to put all of this out of my head. It’s just ridiculous, and this sense of jealousy is rather unbecoming. “I’ve got to sit down and do some work.” I say to them, silencing any reassurance they might try to give me. I don’t want to hear it right now. “I promise it won’t be a late night.”

“If you’re late for dinner, I’m going to come in there and carry you out, chair and all.” Yang says to me as I make my retreat.

I pluck one of the halved berries from the bowl and roll my eyes as I slip by my office door. Knowing Yang, that’s not an idle threat.


	16. Fireside Warmth, Part 2/6: (Blake POV)

Weiss has a lot of questions, I’m sure of that.

If they’re for us, or herself, that I’m not so sure of. Sometimes it's hard to tell.

In the back of our walk-in closet, there’s a few small storage units containing our favorite toys. Weiss only has two objects in her personal drawer. A small bullet vibrator, and a modest strap-on that she’ll ask for on special occasions. Meanwhile, Yang’s storage space has all sorts of oddities. Mine isn’t anything to sneeze at either. Weiss goes back there every now and then. She says she’s sorting out her shoe rack, but I’ve seen her just sit on the step stool we keep back there to reach the attic door.

I’ve tried to encourage what I can of her curiosities. I’d hope that if she wanted to try something, she’d ask.

The realist in me knows better than to hope for that. Weiss isn’t the sort to talk about her explicit wants and desires. She’ll make it known if something isn’t working for her. She’ll make a request for something that will. The problem is, anything she doesn’t have direct experience with intimidates her. She won’t ask for things beyond her narrow realm of knowledge. Even if she might want to try something new, she won’t say a word about it.

It’s always been that way, for better and worse.

I remember when Yang and I bought that blue strap on for Weiss, it was one of the smallest ones the store had.

Weiss had been eyeing our larger toys for a while before that. She just hadn’t asked to use one. We could tell she wanted to try though, there was no doubting that. So, we went out one afternoon and got something a little less big. It was five inches long, and it had a gentle girth. We’d picked it up, just to see if she’d like it. Weiss even commented on the size when we gave it to her. She knew the ones in Yang’s collection were all larger. The vast assortment tended to be thicker, with ridges, bumps, or other changes to the standard design.

The one we’d given Weiss was just a plain silicone strap on. Since it was blue colored, she honestly thought it was meant as a gag gift.

We told her that she had narrow hips, so it would be a good starter. That was the excuse we gave her. Really though, we were positive that anything from our collection would be too large to start with. We were right about that, too. The one we bought for her was more than enough when she finally worked up the courage to ask Yang to use it on her. She came harder than she ever had that night, and it took the both of us to reassure her that she was fine in the aftermath.

There were a lot of tears, doubts, and shame. Weiss had to work through her emotional baggage. Eventually, she came to terms with enjoying it. She questioned her sexuality a bit too, wondering if that might mean she would have been better off with a man. That last notion was ridiculous, of course…

It’s been about a year since then. Weiss is in the back of our closet again, and I don’t think there’s an easy solution to what’s been rolling around in her head.

If I’m being brutally honest with myself, there are a few things I’d like to play out with Weiss. I’ve never been able to voice that. I’m not really sure how. I don’t even know if she’d be interested in anything my filthy mind could conjure up. I follow her to the back of the closet. I push aside a few boxes resting there, and lean on the wall. There really is only one way to tackle a subject like this. Bluntly and unflinchingly. I clear my throat as I regard her gently. “You could glare daggers at those drawers for a million years. I really don’t think it’ll do you any good.”

“I’m not glaring at them.” Weiss replies, her chin buried in her palm as she hunches over thoughtfully. “I’m just thinking.”

“Your scowl says otherwise.” I step over to my container and kneel down. After some consideration, I pull open the bottom drawer. Everything in this one is fairly mild. Even if she did manage to go rummaging around in it, nothing in here should cause a panic. I pick out a black silk scarf and a pair of matching cuffs lined with the same material. “I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours. Though, if you’re just looking to spice things up a bit, try these.”

Her eyes flick to me. It seems like she wants to take them, but like so many things, she holds back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She murmurs, yet she eyes the scarf anyway. That’s what she does when she’s interested in something. She’ll pretend she wants absolutely nothing to do with it. If Weiss really wasn’t interested, she’d make that abundantly clear. Instead she plucks the cuffs out of my hands, pinching them between her fingers. Eyeing them with a mix of curiosity and disgust.

As if the object in her hand is from another world entirely. Finally, she scoffs, looking at them before giving them back. “Those things truly are ridiculous, aren’t they?”

I can only sigh at her. This would be so much easier if I knew what she was actually hoping for. In for a penny, in for a pound. I can give her a simple suggestion at least.

“A little goes a long way." I say with a soft shrug. "The scarf covers your eyes. If you want, the cuffs can attach to the hook we have secured to the bedframe with a little bit of rope.” I take the time to show her the cuffs, how easy they are to use. These ones have a safety button in the back in case the key goes missing. “Have either Yang or I go down on you, see if you like it that way.”

It’s simple, it’s easy, and it’s new enough for her. No complicated power dynamics, no pain play, no deeper meaning. Nothing that could possibly get her into trouble if she’s with me or Yang.

“And, if I don’t like it?” Weiss asks, the words mumbled between her fingers. That tells me she’s more than a little interested.

I keep it casual, letting her mull over the prospect. “If you don’t like it, you just need to say so. With something that simple, you don’t even need a safe word. We know better than to include you in anything that might require that. All you need to do is tell us to stop, and we’ll stop. It’s that easy. The scarf and cuffs come off, and we'll do whatever you need us to do to make you comfortable.”

Blue eyes slip closed, a sigh drifting from her lips. “But, that’s not really what either of you want, is it?”

I bite down my initial response. Not because I don’t have one, but because it has no place in this sort of conversation. Not yet. I cough into my hand, because suddenly my mouth feels dry.

“I guess that depends. Is that a hypothetical question?” To be honest, I hope that it is. “You know, I can’t actually speak for Yang, right?”

“Does it sound hypothetical to you?” She asks quietly, a hint of annoyance coloring her question in embarrassment. “I’m asking, so you could at least speak for yourself.” The way she rolls her eyes is adorable, but I notice she's quick to look at the floor. “I would hope you’d at least be reasonable in your request. Although I have no idea what you’d even want to do with me.”

I look over to where we keep our playthings, most of them Weiss would never agree to in a million years. Even if she did agree to some of them, I certainly wouldn’t agree to use them on her. I’ve never asked her to partake in any of my lewd fantasies. There’s one though. I think she’d allow it, eventually…in my heart though, I feel even that one might be a bridge too far.

“Do you really want to know?” I ask, because I need to know for sure.

She nods, and it feels like a stone has dropped into my gut. It makes me nervous, talking about the darker parts of my mind with her. I don’t know what she expects to get out of it, if anything at all. It’s obvious that she wants to know. Perhaps on a deeper level, she needs too. I don’t know how I feel about that.

“I have a few fantasies.” I say then. “I’ll tell you a relatively tame one. Keep in mind though, to me, this is _entirely_ hypothetical.”

Even as I say that, though, I'm not able to continue. The silence in the air eventually consumes us.

“I’m listening.” She says to me. An invitation I didn’t realize I actually needed. This would be so much easier if it were anyone but Weiss.

I walk up behind her and hug her close, closing my eyes to gather my wits about me. It’s time for a leap of faith. Her scent grounds me, reminds me of who she is, and why I care so much for her. It’s an abstract thing, but to me it solidifies our relationship. When touch breaks the barrier of what spoken word can't convey. It’s when her hands slid over mine and she leans into me that I feel comfortable enough to begin.

“I think about when we were back at Beacon, before you and I really became friends. Around that time, I used to focus on you a lot.” I say slowly, testing the waters. “I wasn’t sure if I could trust you. I needed some way to know for sure, so, I used to follow you around. It really surprised me when the spoiled brat of a Schnee would spend hours at the library studying. I don't know what I expected, really, but it wasn't that.”

“Well, I had to keep up my grades somehow.” Weiss murmured to me, slightly amused.

I didn’t know I would grow to care for her. I had no idea that all of my paranoia was for nothing. If I could go back and slap a younger me for my own stupidity, I would. “Deep down, there’s this part of me that’s scared to ask you for what I really want. It means tapping into that younger, confused side of myself. I never had any closure for why I felt the way I did…but if I could have one thing, it would be that.”

Weiss let out a tiny hum, and I waited for rejection.

“I presume this fantasy of yours involves pinning me to a desk and fucking me raw.” Weiss says softly in a way that makes me shiver. She curses so rarely, it’s delicate in the air. If I thought she had the resilience to actually do that, I’d pull her into this dark world of mine. I’d invite her along to the sinister shadows I lock away, and then I’d make her swear over, and over again. Sullying that prim demeanor she loves to use so much.

“Bookcase.” I choke out, because I can feel the blush already covering my face. “And a strap-on, not fingers…”

I don’t elaborate, she doesn’t need me to. When I use a strap-on, I get rough. I’ve only ever used one on Yang, I’ve never let myself try it with Weiss. I don’t want to hurt her, so I’ve never let that be an option before. She pulls away slightly. Turning in my embrace. She looks into my eyes, and I can see that she’s seriously considering it. Her teeth nip at her lower lip, and I can tell she’s struggling a little. She's wondering what to do.

I need to put a stop to that consideration immediately. “Weiss, we don’t-”

“Yes, we do.” She says, interrupting me.

I take a hard breath. “No. We don't.”

I’ve got to be firm on that. One day, maybe she could handle me getting rough with her. Maybe she could step into this dark world of mine and come to understand it, just like Yang does. Who knows, Weiss may even come to enjoy it. That's a possibility, sure. Even if that’s the case though, it won’t be any time soon.

I’ve got to have realistic expectations, and, so does she.

“Never mind my screwed up fantasies for now.” I tell her, because that’s not a place to start. It wasn’t for Yang and I, and it can’t be for her, either. “If you want to have sex with a blindfold and the cuffs, we can do that. If you want to go to the sex shop and pick out a few new things, we can do that too. If you want to pull out everything in those drawers and look at them, I’ll sit here and answer any questions you might have…but you have to start somewhere, and that place is _not_ my headspace.”

When it comes to my mind, that’s all I’m really willing to explain for her right now.

If nothing else, at least It's honest.

I hope that's enough.


	17. Fireside Warmth, Part 3/6: (Yang POV)

If Blake has taught me anything, it's to look for the small details. Those are the things that give the greatest advantage.

Faunus have stronger senses by nature. Although, what ones are stronger depends on what kind of Faunus they are. Blake has better hearing than most, and her eyesight is meant for the darkness. Even things like touch and scent are keener than most for her. People see those things as advantages, but for Blake it’s the only life she’s ever known. Take those things away from her, and she’ll be just as disadvantaged as everyone else. It’s easy to forget that by just looking at her, because all other things being equal, a Faunus will always have the upper hand in a fight.

But, life is anything but fair, and equality isn’t something you can just take for granted.

Her lips tremble, body quaking beneath me, because those same heightened senses can be her greatest weakness. Her teeth sink deep into my shoulder, brows knitted together, her careful composure cracking as I chip away at it piece by inglorious piece. It's those details that seem clear to me now.

Tonight’s just a series of quickies, but that doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on her. She’d never forgive me if I did, because gentleness had a time and place. Neither of those things matter right now.

She needs something else, undefined, but equally important. As she lays bare beneath me, I let my hands wander aimlessly over her body, My mind is completely devoted to the sensation of skin on skin. A lot of formality has gotten lost between our schedules and the fact that Blake blindsided me on this craving out of nowhere. I wish I had more time to prepare, but, lately that's hard to come by. If we’re going to do anything elaborate, something that might freak Weiss out, we go to the attic or plan around it.

This had no planning. This was just at the request of a very pent-up Blakey. This, is just whatever it turns out to be, and I hope that Blake can be okay with that.

A rough round of oral on the loveseat didn’t cut the tension. Bending her over the coffee table three fingers deep wasn’t enough to take the edge off, either. She needed something more, and I’m more than happy to provide. Even so, I keep my own ears alight for one simple word.

Stygian…

I keep it in the back of my mind, always. Even when we’re not in scene, I hold it close. Now more than ever, I focus for it, listening between each soft breath she exhales. Every time her nails etch into my skin, each time she bites down on my shoulder. Even then I listen. My strength can be brutal, I know it, but Blake likes being thrown around as if she’s nothing. I’m so much stronger than she is, pound for pound more powerful, and that excites her.

The strap-on we’re using tonight is one of mine, large and thick, a series of flowing ridges adding that extra little sensation to an already intense toy. It's an experience unlike any other. A hell of a combination. She’s never had me work her over with it, never felt the stretch that I love so much when she uses it on me. We’ve talking about using it on her during a scene or two, but we’re not sure how well she’ll take to the size. Tonight’s a great night to get her used to it.

A good test run, if nothing else.

I'm only part of the way in, but I can already feel that we're going to need more lube. She hisses as I pull out of her, sucks a breath between her teeth as I take a moment to slick the toy down even more than it had been already. Then I lean back over her, get into position, and slowly I thrust back in. Hips meeting, gliding across each other like a slow wave before separating once more. The pace itself is slower than either of us would like, but I can’t take her with this thing too fast.

Not yet.

“Don’t clench.” I warn her, slapping the meat of her thigh when I meet resistance on re-entry. Her body’s quivering, tightening up against the intrusion. “You’ve gotta ease up.” I say, trying to offer the reassurance I know she needs. Her core’s dripping, where her own wetness ends and the lube begins, I’m not really sure anymore. She finally listens, managing to relax a little. I work my way back inside, slowly.

She’s coiling around me like a vice. Arms and legs squeezing me close.

“Y-yang…” She rasps out, a hot breath telling me it hurts in a way she didn’t really expect it to.

“Want me to pull out?” I ask seriously.

“No.” She claws her way up my back. Another shuttering breath, and a shiver against me makes me want to second guess that. I regard her, my eyes burning red, but I don’t move. Golden eyes meet mine, she blinks back the wetness gathering at the edges of her eyes, and her hips shift upward, trying to meet me in this coupling we share. That’s when I continue to move, seeing that she’s thought this through on some basic level.

I won’t patronize her effort in this, I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end.

I nod, meeting her halfway. I hilt deep inside, and then I don’t move. She’s clenched up again, and I wait for her to ease back up. The stretch on this kind of toy is painful at first, but she knows what to do. I hold her while she breaths through it. A few more agonizingly slow thrusts, and Blake finally begins to relax in earnest. Her ears pressed tight against her head as she finally gains the courage to wiggle her hips again, slowly adjusting to the feel of something so large.

“Okay.” She muttered breathlessly. “Okay, I’m ready.”

I pull out completely. The bed squeaking in protest as I flip her. Ever so carefully, I pinch one of her Faunus ears, the pad of my thumb providing the pressure as I twist. A soft moan falls from her lips, and I know that’s the best I’ll get out of her.

Blake never truly cries out.

“Hands and knees.” I grouse out low, my hot breath caressing her Faunus ear as my hold on it tightens. It’s probably slipping onto the side of painful, but even if it is, she’s taking it. Allowing even that to suffuse her body as she does what she’s told. “Good girl.” I murmur, the hand not holding her ear like a vice slides down over her behind, the flesh is still a dark pink from our earlier antics. Supple, warm to the touch, just like the rest of her. I could never get enough of that.

I swallow, getting myself in position behind her. “Alright, Blakey, just like before. You’ve got to keep wide, and stay relaxed.”

“I know.” She mutters from between her teeth, breathing still uneasy as she shakes some of her hair out of her face. “I’m ready.”

My hand slips farther, taking a short journey. From the fleshy handful of ass my palm rests on, down her thigh, back up to her hip. I give a squeeze, my only warning. It’s like this that I take her, sliding the toy back in again. That all too important word lingering in the depths of my mind. Before every hard thrust of my hips, I wait a moment’s notice. I listen for that word of hers.

Stygian…

It would be wrong of me not to.

After all, it _is_ her safe word.

It’s morbid as hell, but then again, so much of Blake is.

She’s never used that word with me, probably because she’s never needed to. I don’t have her love of the edge, her need for cruelty. I wish I could match her, but I’ve never been good with precision. I’m not comfortable with the idea of a blade in my hands, or the thousands of dangerous promises Blake can make with just a gleam in her eyes. I can take it, sure, but I can’t dish it out. I’ve never been able to. Not like she can, and often does.

I’m no good at toying with her like a cat toys with a mouse. I can tease her, taunt her, I can make a good show of it. I can pretend I’m that I’m all of those things and more, but, Blake knows me bone deep.

Just like I know her.

I take her the same way that I fight. Blunt and decisive. Power over finesse. The hand gripping her ear lets go, trailing downward. My strikes to her ass are never a surprise, but they are always hard and unyielding. Returning with each slow and heavy thrust. I want her to feel me, know that I’m here. I don’t ever want to be forgotten, and that trickles down to the very core of where we end up. Most of the toys are easily forgotten by now. The image of a cruel mistress floats like ashes between what I’d really like, and the slick heat between her legs.

I want to see her unravel under me, breaking into little pieces. It's only then that Blake's ever truly open for the world to see. Easy to ready, easier to understand. It's why we do what we do, why I _want_ to.

If we had the time for endurance tonight, I’d cuff her hands behind her back, and make her ride me out. That’s a brand of cruelty I can get behind. I’d get comfy on a chair, turn on a good porn, and thrust into her with this thing until she was sore and raw. Maybe I’d pull out the nipple clamps we keep for those special occasions. Every now and then, I’d change the pace, just to watch her squirm. There's something to those sorts of moments, aimless, but hot and heavy all the same.

Sadly, she knows just as well as I do, our time for this is running out. She's not built like I am. I'm easily able to absorb almost everything she can dish out, but the same isn't true in reverse. Her body is quaking so much she can barely hold herself in position anymore.

Reaching the point where going further with this just isn't an option.

Her ass is so red, but she’s never made more than the slightest peep, her mental control far and beyond even my own. Her ears are starting to pin down flat against her head in a way that tells me we’re toeing a line. With one final hard open palm smack to her backside, my palms slide up, gripping her hips more firmly and adjusting her to fit more securely in my hold.

She knows that this time, I’ll take her to peak in earnest.


	18. Fireside Warmth, Part 4/6: (Weiss POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, I got sidetracked with work related things like refurnishing my home office so that I wasn't using 40 year old furniture anymore. They were fun things, but very distracting and not conducive for hobbies like fan fiction.

I feel the dull ache in my shoulders, an indication that I’ve been sitting at my desk too long. The sun set a long time ago, and the same muted household racket I’ve come to expect faded along with it. Stretching, I place away my unfinished work, the rest can wait for the morning. Pulling up one of my less important email accounts on my scroll, I begin to browse it, curiosity getting the better of me. There’s a handful of unread correspondence from varying associates.

All of them are likely a mix of business and pleasure. A few comes from old friends, others from mentors.

I find that idle banter builds a solid foundation for important deals moving forward in the coming months. Some of those that I do business with feel the same. I lock my office behind me the same way as always. Padding down the hall towards the bedroom, my scroll in hand. The sight in the bedroom is enough to pull me from the ramblings of an all too chatty Peter Port, who still insists on prattling at length even in written form.

Blake’s curled up in a heap, an empty water bottle abandoned on the floor. A grey blanket is rumpled at the foot of the bed too. Almost as if it had been kicked out of the way. Yang’s rummaging around in the closet by the sounds of it, likely cleaning up whatever it was they were doing in here earlier. The lighting is dim, and I squint to see in front of me, my vision lacking in the candle lit room.

From what I can see, Blake’s behind is red, and she groans in protest when I flick on the bedside lamp to disrobe for the night. Now that I can see more clearly, I find that she’s covered in bite marks, and the fleshy part of her back seems covered in scratches. I can only hazard a guess as to what went on. Then Yang walks out of the closet looking like an ursa mauled her, and I just have no words for any of it. The way she's grinning tells me they had a good time, whatever it was.

“What’s up, babe?” Yang asks in the face of my quizzical expression.

The multitude of questions that I have die at the back of my throat. I really don’t want to know. Truly, there is only one thing I absolutely need clarification on. “Are the both of you quite finished? If you aren’t then perhaps I should…” I point towards the door, wondering if I should leave.

“Nah, you’re good. I’m just going to take care of Blakey here, and then I think we’re going to hit the sack.” Yang walks into the bathroom and I hear the bath water start running.

With a sigh, I shake my head. “It looks to me like there was already plenty of hitting go on already.” I say loud enough that she can hear me.

“It’s not like that, and you know it.” Yang calls out over the roar of the water hitting the tub.

To be honest, I don’t know…

Not completely.

The concept worries me more than I like to admit. I just don’t understand it. I don’t see the appeal. I’ve never been able to separate the concept of violence and whatever it is that they have together. We’re huntresses after all. The idea that raising our hands to anyone won’t lead to a direct intent to inflict bodily harm seems impossible. Even in the event of a sparring match we know the inherent danger of stepping into the arena. That is to say, we know implicitly, that what we’re about to engage in is combat first and foremost.

Even if you were to pull the action out of battle entirely, the next thing that comes to mind is little more than a reprimand. An action that could be better dealt with by virtue of spoken word.

To think that raising a hand to a lover might be encouraged startles me. When I really stop to think about it, I feel lost. To me, pain could never be pleasure, and the idea that it might be enjoyed at all twists my gut in ways I just don’t have the words for.

It’s unfathomable, really.

When Yang comes out of the bathroom, she scoops Blake into her arms. Blake, obviously doesn’t want to be moved. She snarls under her breath, biting deep into Yang’s arm as her ears flatten back. It honestly looks like she could be able to draw blood, if she wanted. Yang doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. Her semblance flairs to life in her eyes though, crimson consuming the edges of lilac. Still, it's not anger. Her expression is soft.

“Yeah, yeah, bitch and moan at me all you want, Blakey.” Yang says, and I can easily hear the fondness there as she heads back to the bathroom. “You know the drill. I’m not going to let you weasel out of it this time.”

“You’re both completely ridiculous.” I can’t help but mutter. I don’t see how any of that could be remotely enjoyable for either one of them.

By the time they come back out of the bathroom again, I’m already undressed and under the covers with my scroll in hand. My finger slides against the surface, moving the text along as I read. Yang plops Blake gracelessly on the bed, dragging the thick fluffy towel away from her she puts Blake under the covers. Two golden eyes glaring daggers into everything in the general vicinity, her ears are still down flat against her head.

“What’s gotten into her?” I ask Yang, knowing Blake probably isn’t in the mood to talk if she’s acting like that.

“She’s just a bit sore, that’s all.” Yang says, her shrug so careless it’s as if this could me a somewhat common occurrence that I’m simply not privy to. “She’s always a little pissy like that when she’s sore down south.”

Not that I’ve ever seen it, but I’ll take Yang’s word for it. “Well, perhaps if you’d just leave her be after making her sore, she wouldn’t be so annoyed.” I shoot back in reply.

“If I don’t make her move, would just stay there and not move at all. Eventually she would just crash out.” Yang says, pushing her way into bed, earning another growl of dismay for her trouble as Blake buries her face in her pillow. Yang’s hand drops down into Blake’s head fingers tangling deep in the sea of black tresses. “You think this is bad, what’d you think would happen if I let her culture a UTI or a yeast infection from all the lube we use?”

I still don’t want to know. The implication itself is disgusting. “Suit yourself.” I say, returning to my scroll.

Blake makes her way on top of Yang slowly, her ears slowly returning to their placid state of ease as Yang works her fingers through black tresses. A slow purr begins to work up from Blake’s throat, a sure sign of being tired as her eyes begin to close. I can’t help but watch the exchange, and the mystery surrounding it.

“Come on, Weiss, you too. Get over here and cuddle.” Yang says, looking as though she will pull the scroll out of my hand if she has to. “You don’t need the blue light from that thing messing up your sleep.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not done yet.” I rebuke, because frankly, I never am. It's endless, I know that. She does too. I work too much. It's a distraction too.

“Yeah, you are, cause I’m done watching you fiddle with that stupid thing.”

“Just let me finish the one that I’m on.”

Yang just sighs. “Put that scroll away before I come over there and toss you ass over tits.”

I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again. “Completely, utterly, ridiculous…”

Like so many things in my life, I put the mental gymnastics of trying to understand the two of them aside. It’s a complex matter, and frankly, it can wait.

I close my scroll and turn out the light, finding a place beneath the covers, Blake’s bare back to my front. I may not be as hands on as Yang, but I don’t deny myself of the simple pleasure of feeling Blake’s soft expanse of skin against mine. I let myself enjoy the calloused fingers I feel drifting over my back, following the length of my spine as far as Yang can reach.

This is the way things should be.

If only everything in life could be so simple.


	19. Fireside Warmth, Part 5/6: (Blake POV)

I’d like to say that I haven’t let my mind consider what might lay dormant between the three of us as a couple. However, there are little wants that drift into my thoughts every now and then. Tiny considerations, momentary fantasies. Relationships like ours have hard lessons. It means learning to be happier with less focus on oneself. Learning to find joy in compromises that often offer lesser benefit between more people. It takes the romance out of it to think of the matter like a numbers game, but, so be it.

It is a numbers game, hearts are fickle things, able to be hurt. Fairness isn’t always fair. Keeping emotional score is impossible. Priority shifts constantly to match life as it also changes. You do the best you can, and hope that it’s enough. When it isn’t, you have to admit it, plain and simple. If you don’t ask for more attention, you won’t receive it. If you don’t offer an open heart and mind, your partners may be afraid to ask for it.

Because of this, date nights take on a new form when there are more than two people involved.

It’s strange the way that several small details can change everything in the blink of an eye. Those moments can’t be set in stone. Knowing that, cherishing that, and letting each moment drift on by fleetingly because of that, we strive to make the most of what we have. If we don’t, we have nothing at all, and there isn’t much we can do to justify the intangible qualities that mold us together. Three hearts as one, woven inexplicably, and yet, completely. I don’t think any of us have been able to truly explain it, even to those who perhaps deserve that explanation the most.

Maybe that is the most profound evidence of all.

It’s equally important to nurture both individual relationships, and our group dynamic. It’s imperative to realize that the more hearts you include, the more flawed the relationship will become. People aren’t perfect by nature, and the more people you have, the more tiny insecurities you must soothe away by default. What can be empowering, can easily become poisonous. Learning how to deal with those issues comes at no small price.

It’s a continuous effort.

We dance barefoot on the rug by the fireplace. A simple box waltz without any of the usual flair Weiss expects from a dance partner. She rarely takes an entire day off. When she does, it provides the perfect opportunity to breathe life into the strained parts of our relationships. It’s a renewal of sorts, and one we all desperately need. One song ends, and another begins. Weiss and I keep dancing slowly, the moves easy to come by.

For all of her inflexibility, logic wars with her heart more often at not. Weiss can be incredibly easy to read once those notions come into question. There’s an innocence of sorts that slips through the crack in her usual composure. Depth to the way she moves, heavier on her feet. Her scent is completely awash in something nearing pensive anxiety. I can almost taste it in the air, feel it within the way her skin touches mine.

Meanwhile, Yang lays across the sofa on her belly, watching Weiss and I move with a lazy expression. She would rather be doing something a little more entertaining. She has never liked this sort of dancing, preferring a down and dirty rhythm to get lost in. There’s no law saying she has to be here, or that she can’t be fiddling around with her scroll to amuse herself. Yang’s concerned though, and it floods her expression as she watches us dance. She can be an incredibly deep thinker when she wants to be, and that alone can be terrifying.

Her intellect hides behind so many carefully constructed walls. Thinking too hard only promises pain. Memories have not been kind to her. As she regards us in this moment, I can see the small considerations she’s making. Turning them around, over and over, like a tangled thread. I don’t know why she’s drenching herself in our daily stressors, but I do feel comforted knowing that Yang cares so much. That she thinks about them at all, as if to find a solution.

The song ends, the room growing silent as the fire crackles the same way it has all day, warming the room just a little more than it needs to.

Weiss edges closer, the small gap between us disappearing as she melts into me. Her short stature allowing herself to hide her face in my chest as her arms circle around me. She’s been like this all day, and I sigh as I rest my chin atop her head. She feels so delicate in my arms, as if she could shatter at any moment. I hear rustling, and I see Yang move from the corner of my eye. She comes up behind me, resting her chin on my shoulder. Then, her arms wrap tightly around the both of us.

“Weiss?” I hear Yang ask.

“I’m just so tired.” Weiss admits, her voice muffled by the fabric of my shirt. The way she says that makes me think it’s not physical exhaustion that she’s talking about.

Yang’s the first to react to that, effortlessly scooping Weiss into her arms without a second thought. Her lilac eyes turning a darker hue as red bleeds into the edges of her expression. There’s anger there, resting beneath the concern. I’ll bet she aims it at a lot of things, blaming too many small details in the larger picture. I hope that’s not the case, but my gut knows better. I watch her carry Weiss off, and feel at least a little inept for not doing it myself.

I follow them to the bedroom. I don't know what to expect of this. With the two of them, it's hard to know. Yang lays Weiss down on the bed before climbing upon the mattress herself. Her palms bracing a pillow on both sides, framing a white head of hair. She bends down, obviously kissing Weiss deeply, if the way slender fingers tangle into blond strands is any indication. I’m reminded of how strained their relationship is, constrained by family ties.

A constant sexualized frustration clawing at the both of them.

Weiss has been slightly withdrawn with Yang recently. Less physically welcoming, and we all know why.

I won’t pretend that I understand it all. There's a lot I'd never be able to understand.

Weiss struggles with the concept that Ruby and Yang are sisters. She fights with herself, and the moral ambiguity that rests within the implied dynamic. A bond that we once shared as team RWBY. A yesteryear framed in childish ideology, and tarnished by aged cruelty. It’s true that Ruby’s affections for Weiss were at one time strictly juvenile. Back then, Weiss was in no emotional position to return them, either. They were the perfect partners because of that.

It didn’t stay that way. Time changes things, not always for the better. Ruby grew up, and her heart did too, jading a little in the process. Weiss actually learned what it meant to love and be loved, and the inherent damage that could do. 

When we were in Vale searching for a home, the team dynamics had begun to shift abruptly. I thought perhaps a new era was upon us. That Ruby would separate herself as a team leader, and in turn, integrate herself into our lives differently. I thought she would end up living the best of both worlds. Having her fun as a huntress, and exploring her romantic feelings with Weiss when it suited the two of them. I thought if anyone on the planet could pull something impossible like that off…

Well...

It would have been Ruby. I honestly felt that way.

When Ruby’s feelings came out into the open, I was prepared to accept that. I could consider the idea that I’d have to share Weiss with yet another person. I thought, if it was Ruby, I could tolerate that. I still feel that way. I could still tolerate….no…I could welcome Ruby openly…without question, or jealousy. I know without a shadow of a doubt.

The problem is, I know that the three of them think differently.

Weiss isn’t attracted to Ruby romantically. For her, it’s just that simple. Yang, just on general principle, doesn’t want to share her lovers with her sister. In perhaps what they call true sibling rivalry, Ruby didn’t want to share Weiss either, not with anyone, not even me.

A harsh moan cuts through the air like a hot knife through butter. The way Weiss sucks a breath in from between her teeth sends a shiver down my spine. It’s enough to draw me to the bed, where Yang has already making fast work of white cloth and powder blue undergarments. Dismantling both with vigor, not particularly minding the aggressive way in which the buttons meet their demise. Some bouncing to the floor.

The downright possessive gleam in Yang’s eyes can’t match the way her teeth sink into her lower lip. I know that expression well.

Fear.

But then, Weiss whispers something, the syllables melding together in a breath that I can’t catch. Yang nods, retreating, only to return with that blasted blue toy that has become the bane of my existence, setting it on the bedside table. I watch the two of them caress and touch, Weiss slowly undressing Yang with great care and ease. Lovemaking, if I had to give it a name at all.

My own arousal pools in my core, but, this night is not meant for me. It’s in this concession, that I close my eyes and sigh away my twinge of jealousy. They both desperately need this, and though I too would like to taste, to touch, to partake of my lovers, I don’t allow myself the selfishness. It's my turn to watch, my turn to see the two of them laid bare, and know that this too, is part of what makes the three of us whole.

This moment is theirs, and theirs alone.


	20. Fireside Warmth, Part 6/6: (Yang POV)

Weiss is a whole lot of things rolled into one.

She’s always trying to be perfect, or at least the nearest thing to it. For some reason that I just don’t understand, failure isn’t an option to her. Sometimes she acts like if she’s not at her best, she might as well be at her worst. It might seem strange to say that, but it’s true. Honestly, I know, it doesn’t really make any sense when I explain it that way, but that’s the best I can do.

It’s just the way she is.

For example, her skin is soft to the touch, delicate, and always has that gentle waft of perfume. She’s probably the most feminine huntress I know. The one that basks in everything a woman should be. She acts like anything else would be beneath her. It’s funny, but also sort of sad. Everything about her relies heavily on the belief that she is every ounce a woman, every bit as dignified as she claims she is. Even though she calls me ridiculous, she really isn’t any better.

I just wish that she could see herself the way that I see her.

Her breasts fit perfectly in the palms of my hands. She calls them small, but, everything about her is that way. It adds to her appeal, allows her to carry herself in a dignified way that no one else could hope for. Her hips follow mine willingly, she moves with a dancer's grace. The way she gently clenches her teeth is just practiced enough to look elegant, even if what’s causing that expression is anything but that. She’s pretty with bed hair and a blush on her cheeks. Everything she hates about herself is everything I admire.

I know she doesn't believe me, but, it's true.

She doesn’t like making too many sounds. She's always biting them back. Muffling them somehow. When she thinks she’s being too loud, she'll try to hide her face. She's cute like that, but she'd be more beautiful if she just let herself make whatever racket she wanted.

It’s a shame, really. Her voice is hot. That's one of the things Blake likes most about Weiss, but really letting herself go isn’t something that Weiss likes to do. She’ll allow it sometimes with oral, maybe because when we’re down between her legs she doesn’t have to look us in the eye as she embarrasses herself. With the strap-on Weiss and I are face to face. I can see the blue in her eyes, the tightness in her expression as she bites back another vocal cue. I see every insecurity, she can't hide them away.

I like that too. The blush on her cheeks growing darker the more she realizes she’s losing her composure. I don’t know why she fights it, because she’s got to know by now it’s more fun to let loose.

Still, she hides her face, lips pressing to the nape of my neck. She doesn't want me to see her unravel. Her fingers twine more deeply into my hair, a soft moan still manages to escape anyway. That’s hint enough that she likes this, that she’s already lost to the shivers and trembles. I can feel them working waves along her entire body. We slowly come to a stop, and I hold her close, let this moment be on her terms. When she stops clinging so tightly, it’s then I’ll know that she’s ready to meet face to face again.

Until then, I’ll let my fingers wander lazily and keep my hips steady. I won’t pull out unless she wants me to. Resting just enough of my body on her that she feels all of me. Knows that I'm here. I want to feel her gentle breathing as it begins to slow. I want to caresses her flexing muscles as they begin to relax. So much power coiled tight, and she doesn't even realize it.

When she finally puts a little space between us, I know it’s safe to pull away and unfasten the toy from around my hips. I let my gaze linger on her, gathering the covers before laying back down with her. I wrap her in the blankets, safe in my arms. We can both hear Blake moving around, probably heading for the kitchen to put the kettle on the stove, but my place is here. Her eyes convey so much in the soft moments, and I can do little more than laugh at the way her small hands comes up to trace the outline of my face.

She does that a lot, following lines of bone and muscle. It’s like she can’t believe Blake and I are built like we are. It would be funny if it didn’t sometimes bother her so much.

I’ve always wondered if her upbringing caused that, if the older women in her life influenced her. Just like the ways the men in my life influenced me. Despite the way I look, I know I fight more like a guy. The way I think isn’t exactly dainty. I can thank my dad and my uncle for that. I’ve always walked that line, being able to connect with both genders without much of an issue. Finding a common ground was easy for me. Honestly, I don’t think much of it at all.

I don’t think I ever have.

It’s different for Weiss, woman down to the core.

For her, society is rigid, unmoving. Men and women have their places. It’s clear with the way she interacts with guys that she don’t understand them. I wouldn’t exactly call her a man-hater, but she keeps them at arm’s length. It’s like she will never see men and women as equals. It’s like there’s divide she refuses to cross. Maybe her dad made her see things that way, I don’t really know. Hell, on some level, I don’t even think she knows.

Even in bed, Weiss is all woman, all the time.

Weiss is hardly ever lazy, but she don’t seem to know how to relax. It’s this, I think, that she likes most. The hours after, when there’s no expectations in her mind, or mine. It’s silly that she has them at all, but, that’s just the way she is. So I let her hands wander, let her think, and close my eyes. It’s better to enjoy the touch for what it is, but beneath that I can feel the undercurrent of expectation.

She's thinking about returning the favor. She believes it must be done. As if anything less makes her a lesser lover in some way. I grab that hand trailing south, bringing it back up from the sheets between us. I kiss every knuckle, and enjoy the somewhat annoyed look at get for my trouble.

“Yang.” She mutters softly.

“Nah, babe, not tonight. I’m good.” I say, but really that strap-on rubs me in the worst way.

Not enough friction to get me off, but too much fiction to want to be touched after I’m done using it on her. It’s not weighty enough on my end to do me any good. Even if that wasn’t the case though, I don’t think I’d be up for another round. I like having her to myself too much. Call me selfish, but it’s rare to find Weiss so willing to just let down her guard and be herself. She’s too headstrong for her own good sometimes, and going with the flow just isn’t a skill she usually has.

I want to enjoy this while I can, before Blake comes in with the tea and I have to share again.

“Am I…” Whatever she’s about to ask doesn’t get finished. Instead I can feel her move in my arms, curling herself inward, the blankets and our embrace becoming a fortress to seclude herself. I just lay quietly and listen, waiting for her to finish whatever she started. “I’m no longer adequate, am I?”

“What do you mean?” I mumble as I curl around her more protectively, my chin resting on top of her head.

“Am I no longer able to…please…you?”

Well that’s a stupid question, but saying that won’t help. She could fuck me into a daze with her tongue alone. I know that because she’s done it. “I’m very pleased right now.” I say to her, because I’ve got exactly what I want. “No complaints here.”

“But, you haven’t…” She sighs likes she’s chewing on her thoughts. Part of me thinks there’s more to this than she’s letting on.

“I don’t need to.” I say with a smirk pulling at my lips. “Don’t think so damn much. Just lay with me.”

I know I’m being a hypocrite, because right now I can’t stop thinking. It’s just that my thoughts are in a different place. A simpler place, maybe, but I can’t stop my drifting mind either way. I just want to love her. That’s it. That’s all I want out of her, all I need her to understand.

Fuck the rest of it, when the sun goes down, does it really matter?

Weiss gets it in her head that she needs to be a certain way, that if she isn’t, she’s lesser somehow. That’s not how this works though. She's her own person, and I like her that way. As long as we’re together like this, that’s all I care about.

It’s good enough for me.

It doesn’t have to be anything else. If it works, it works. If it’s not broken, why fix it? Yeah, what we have isn’t perfect, but, it’s never going to be. Actually, if everything was perfect, I’d probably hate my life. If everything was perfect, what would be left for me after that? Where would someone like me end up? What would be taken away from me next?

It’s shit like that, that scares me the most.

"Yang...?"

"Yeah, babe?"

I feel Weiss slide one of her hands up my bicep. "You've gotten tense all of sudden."

"Sorry." I say, loosening my grip a little.

I didn't even realize. Then again, sometimes I don't until it's too late. The bed dips, Blake sitting on my side with three mugs in her grasp. Her eyes catch mine, it's like she knows my head is starting to spiral. She's able to stop it, just with a look, just because she knows. Weiss snuggles closer, and it's like she knows too.

What we have is amazing, I'd never give it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next we have a Ruby POV, and then a Winter POV. Look forward to it.


	21. Drifting Petals, Part 3/??: (Ruby POV)

Thanks to the snow, our flight back home was delayed by a few days. We’ve been holding up at this observatory until the storm passes. There’s no reason to send out an airship in the middle of a blizzard. We can wait. As the wind howls outside, I stay indoors with the sounds of gears twisting and turning. Robotics joining together to do most of the odd jobs. I step off to the side, letting one of them pass by with a mop in their hands. It has only its job in mind. As I enter into a long and slender dormitory the machine behind me starts washing down the stone floor as its one and only mission.

The room with all the bunkbeds is empty right now. I should have expected that, it’s not nearly as lively at these outposts to begin with. I've gotten used to the long stretches of solitude. I don't have any other choice.

Learning to adapt isn’t always easy, but as I shake the snow out of my hair and grab a nearby towel, I have to admit, I don’t mind it. Actually, it’s a pretty comfortable life. More than I thought it would be, anyway. The food isn’t bad, and the cots are comfortable. It sure beats sleeping on the frozen ground outside. Kicking off my boots and shaking off my red cloak, I make sure not to let any snow trail behind me. I get my things and start changing into my pajamas. This loneliness is part of the price for my dream, and I knew that going into it...

..didn't I? 

I apprenticed under too many solitary hunters and huntresses. I had to have known that this is what it means to live this life. This what I wanted to do as a child, and I don’t regret it now.

I can't.

Life in the military is easy for me. I’m not military, so I don’t have to deal with most of the daily routines. All I have to do is patrol the area. I report any Grimm coming towards Atlas. If the Grimm are small, I don’t even have to kill them, the robots do it for me. If they’re bigger, I meet up with other patrolling hunters in the area to take them down. At the end of the day, I head back to whatever barracks, outpost, or cabin Winter happens to be stationed in. I give my report, and go back to my bunk for the night.

There’s not much to dislike. I get a warm bed on most nights and three square meals whenever I’m visiting a base, academy, or hunter’s lodge.

You can easily tell the difference between the hunter division and the enlisted military. We don’t have mandatory uniforms or a dress code, they do. We don’t have to follow most of the protocol, they do. Our teams aren't split by up by gender like the military, either. Teams always bunk together, no matter what the composition is. We have mostly Faunus in our division, the military is mostly human and machine. We get paid a little less, but, we don’t have to worry about military ranks. We only answer to three people. General James Ironwood, Winter Schnee, and our assigned team leader, if we have one.

Chain of command goes in that order, always. It's never a question.

It takes all of us to keep Atlas safe, but, there’s a tension between the two groups. I don’t know why, and really, I don’t care. All I need to worry about is my job. So long as I do what I’m supposed to, I don’t have any trouble. The people are kept safe, and I get to do what I love.

I know that probably seems selfish, but if it is, then I guess I am.

This place is entirely automated by machines. Twenty people are stationed here in case something breaks. Two from the hunters division, the rest atlesian military. There are places like this dotting the landscape around Atlas. Some go as far as a hundred miles out from the perimeter wall. Winter makes trips like these on occasion, and this isn’t my first trip out to this particular observatory.

I’ve been here once before, while researching Atlas tech for Vale.

It’s been nice to see somewhat familiar faces, breaking bread and tipping back a mug of warm spiced ale. There’s no suspicious activity, no Grimm, and no mechanical failings. We’re only staying until the storm passes over. Then, the transport will be here to send us someplace else. The metal door opens and closes behind me. I hear Winter sigh, shedding her outer gear and leaving her boots at the door just like I did.

Then, Winter walks up to her bed, pulling her nightwear out of her own bag. She begins to undress out of her uniform, and doesn’t seem to care that I’m right here. This room is just for us. The other six beds aren’t occupied, and there’s no footlocker in front of them. It’s just a temporary residence for passersby. Even my duffel bag rests on a hook at the foot of my bed. I don’t need to unpack. There's a latrine in the back, but it's old. Clean, but it's seen better days.

“We have received our orders.” Winter says to me as she carefully unfastens her uniform piece by piece. She hates when it gets wrinkled. “Tomorrow, we will be reporting back to Atlas Academy where you shall continue your rounds along the inner perimeter wall. I’ll be looking after the students for the time being.”

Which means that I won’t see any action. There’s nothing to do on the inside part of the wall. Most people love it, but I absolutely hate it. I’d rather be out wandering around with the Grimm. At least I feel useful out in the elements. I can’t argue about my post though, it’s not my decision to make.

I can’t argue about it, I’m stuck. They order, I obey. It'd be the same in Vale unless I turned freelance, so, I'm used to it. Still, I curl my fingers into my palm.

I can't fight it. I’ve got to try and not sound disappointed. “Okay.” I say as I keep my eyes fixated on the ceiling. “Will I be there for very long?”

“Long enough, I suppose.” Winter begins. “You know, the inside wall tends to be rather well fortified. People stationed there find themselves with very little to occupy their time. It’s the most opportune position to request leave.” I know what she’s hinting at, but I really don’t want any. “You’ll be returning to the outer wall soon enough. You won’t be granted any then. If I were you, I’d make the most of it.”

“I don’t need any time off.” And really, I don’t.

“It is imperative that you consider your position in all of this.” Winter replies to me as the rustling of fabric reaches my ears. “I’m sure there are people that would like to see you.” As much as I don’t want it to, that draws my attention. A pair of white and grey flannel pajamas are covering her body unflatteringly. Then again, there are a lot of things she does that are different. Things that probably come from her time in the military. One thing I’ve learned is that no one cares about appearances when everyone else looks the same.

"Maybe, I guess." I sigh.

"You seem displeased about that." She responds, and I just find myself watching her. What do I say about it? The only thing that really matters out this far from the boarder is keeping warm. Staying healthy. I doubt Weiss even knows about half of the things Winter gets herself involved in. Like everything else Winter doesn’t talk about, it’s probably confidential. She probably can't say a word, even if she wanted to. Though, like those god awful pajamas that look like they came out of a prison ward, I'll bet she hides things for modesty too.

She has her pride after all. Loyal to the military or not, she's no lapdog. That's why Ironwood lets her get away with insubordination more often than not. That's why I'm hoping she'll jut let this slide. Let me keep my own pride, like she gets to keep hers. She’s waiting for me to answer, and if I don’t, she’ll get mad at me. I force a shrug, I don’t really know what else to say. “If that’s a hint about my old team missing me, I know they probably are.”

“Don’t you miss them in return? What about your sister?”

The way she asks that makes me want to shoot the same thing back at her. Then again, that’s not how you survive situations like this. All I have to do is keep my head low, and do as I’m told. I can’t help some of the bitterness that reaches my voice, though. “Missing her isn’t the point. Even if it was, that’s not a good enough excuse to go back yet. If it was, wouldn’t you be taking time off after every mission?”

“Would I?” She asks.

“Well, you miss Weiss, don’t you?" I can ask that. I can stretch my annoyance that far, I think. Winter's easily agitated, but she's fair too. "She is your sister, isn’t she?”

“Indeed.” Winter says, and the final thing she does is take her hair out of tight up-do she keeps it in. Her white hair falling down her neck and back. She doesn’t keep it nearly as long as Weiss keeps hers. Probably out of practicality. Then she sits down on her cot, the one directly across from mine. “Let me give you a bit of advice." She starts in a tone I've never heard before. "I’ve learned to be somewhat utilitarian in the way I run my missions. If my rank offers no value, there’s no reason to keep it. It’s the same with my family name, and the ties that bind me to it. Many in my family are completely and entirely useless, and I would be remiss not to notice that.”

I roll onto my side, looking at her. Where is she going with this?

“I may not know the particulars of the company my sister keeps. However, it isn’t as though I’m completely clueless. I’d like to think I know enough to draw my own conclusions on the topic.” She says slowly. “Between you and I, we might as well consider ourselves related. Therefore, like so many times before, I'm forced to make a conclusion. Are you useful to me as more than a huntress? Are you more than the burdens placed upon you? Time will tell.”

She might be right about that, not that I want to even think about it.

“I won’t pretend to understand the situation. I have no idea why you’ve chosen to distance yourself the way you have. In some capacity, I can't bring myself to care, either.” She goes on to say, her chilly exterior making her sound much more distant than she really is. “However, there is one thing I do know. It's a truth that extends far beyond any assumption I may or may not have. Weiss asked me to look after you. She would have never asked me to do such a thing if she thought you were insignificant. She would never ask something meaningless of me.”

She’s right.

It’s just that right now, I’d rather deal with Grimm than my own team.

Or rather, what’s left of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see you next time for a very special Winter POV, and an arc around the three Schnee Siblings.


	22. Siblings, Part 1/9 (Winter POV)

In my life, I've learned a simple two word phrase that protects everyone, and everything, I will ever come to care about.I simply say "that's classified" and continue about my day as if nothing happened. Very few would ever dare to ask into the nature of my statement. Fewer still would actually have the security clearance to ask for answers. That's why I use the phrase liberally to protect the things most important to me.

I am the bearer of many well-kept sins, secrets, and burdens.

Several aren’t even my own, but I hold them without hesitation. I must, it isn’t a choice. It’s an obligation that I was born into. The Schnee family has a long, twisting history. Empires have risen and fallen within our protected lineage. More of us have bathed in the tides of war than have conceived to preserve our genetics. We used to be an incredibly large family with children in the dozens, but now, we are little more than a whisper.

There are only three survivors in my generation. The White Fang succeeded in executing many of my dearest relatives. Those than survived those killings would never be the same.

Weiss and Whitley have no true concept of the bloodbath that upheaved our bloodline. They have no idea of our true nature, or, of history's implicit brutality. Most of it occurred before we born. The final blows washing over our home when I was a child, and Weiss was too young to have a clue. She could barely walk, and Whitley was no more than a nine month promise in the making. A prayer that my father might finally have a son to carry the family name. It was a different time then.

What was left for them to lose, ultimately, was less significant than they will ever know. With no surviving cousins, aunts, or uncles within their memory, the company was the only extended family they’d have.

As to be expected, though, that was not enough for the radical members of the White Fang. By that time our home may have been a fortress, but, there were other victims to claim. As angry as the Faunus were, they took those souls without hesitation. Culling the lives of family friends until full legacies were no more than ash and gravestone. The board members were not safe either.

Those are the deaths that my siblings recall. The ones that shaped them to conceptualize loss in the first place.

I’d lost count of the funerals by then, most of them weren’t even worthy of front page news, either. What was once breaking news, slowly, surely, became a blurb in passing. Little more, little less. Father was right to be angry, but his rage was blind. His soul tarnished beyond recognition. I cannot say that he was ever a good man. He never for a moment loved our mother. It’s why I went so long without siblings in the first place. For years on end, he never bothered to touch her.

I doubt he would have been kind to the Faunus. I doubt he would have cared for the world at large. His greed would have never dwindled. Yet, for all of those failings, inexcusable as they are, I know the man he used to be. The true love for his legacy. He was always cold, he never stopped calculating, and he always had high expectations. Still, there was a time before his cruelty.

A time when he held me nearly and dearly to his heart. A breath when he’d done the same for Weiss. An instant gone too soon, when he’d held Whitley in his arms, and I hoped that the father I knew would return again.

He never did.

I sigh silently as I look at the holographic monitor affixed to my desk. I’ve only been in Atlas proper for a few hours, and Weiss has already decided to impose herself on my current proceedings. When it comes to work, she is more like our father than she knows. More like the man I once remember scowling at his documents late at night. Her pride is the same as his once was. Her tenacity reaches far beyond even my own. She is, without question, the legacy that our father once dreamed of.

If only he had nurtured her when he’d been given the chance.

Like our father, she has a bad habit of bombarding my office with calls at the first opportunity. She does it out of concern, not control. The honesty in her questions quickly cools my temper. She begins with business as usual. After only a handful of the expected inquiries, the topic changes abruptly to Ruby. I can’t say I’m surprised, but, I do wish Weiss would have a little more faith in me. It’s not as if I would let the girl come to harm if it could be avoided.

Besides, Ruby isn’t a novice in need of protecting.

I do little more than amuse my sister's fascination. “Ruby will be stationed along the innermost wall until further notice.”

“Which means she could come home soon.” Weiss replies hopefully, idly clicking a pen and jotting down a note about requiring chocolate chips. I don’t let myself linger on the action.

“Depending on the paperwork in place, she could easily take a week off.” I say casually. “However, she hasn’t asked for the time off. Therefore, she hasn't been given any."

“She should be entitled to it.” Weiss says, an edge of complaint in her voice, as I expected. "Suppose you take the time to remind her, paperwork in hand. That might get her to do it." Pen still held in her hand she continues writing a grocery list. Laundry detergent and toiletries making the list.

“I'm supposed to coddle her now, is that it?” I mutter questioningly, tenting my fingers as I gaze directly at the screen. “Surely Ruby Rose is more dependable than that, isn't she?”

“She is, but, she's also been known to forget about important documents. She could have forgotten about it, since it wasn't a direct order. You can see where that might slip her mind, can't you?” Weiss asks, obviously confused. She looks up at me as though I have the answer. “Otherwise why wouldn’t she fill it out? She can't possibly want to stay cooped up inside the innermost wall, with very little to do.”

It's an apt assumption, actually.

That's why I find myself so surprised. Ruby hardly seems the type to be a pencil pusher. The innermost wall usually deals with incoming deliveries, foreign arrivals, and a small handful of governmental proceedings. We also dabble with the training that doesn’t occur on the Atlas Academy campus grounds. Naturally, with so little to do for a amusement, huntresses such as Ruby are prone to boredom.

“Actually, Weiss, she implied that she was going to do exactly that. I have no idea why, and I had hoped that you could enlighten me.” I say, seeing Blake’s hand come into view on the hologram as she places down a cup of tea and what looks to be a sandwich. It’s obvious that Weiss would have forgone her lunchtime meal if it hadn’t been brought to her. “Why wouldn’t she fill out a simple piece of paperwork and go home to her family? I find it hard to believe that she takes after her uncle enough to be a vagabond.”

“She didn’t tell you anything?” The look of surprise on her face is troubling.

“What she says isn’t nearly as important as what she doesn’t say.” I expect Weiss to know that, but stating the obvious is never a bad thing. When in regards to human nature, it's almost to avoid. “Honestly, I’d mistake Ruby for a newly plucked military recruit if she were in uniform.”

“What do you mean?” Weiss murmurs, eyes narrowing, confusion furrowing her brow.

“I mean, I expected to receive a huntress, not a wallflower.” I say, because I have no reason to lie. “She’s placid, mild mannered to a fault. Most solitary huntresses in her line of work tend to be ornery and antisocial. They enjoy kicking up fights by nature. To be honest, when you made your request, I expected to see the echoes of a young Qrow Branwen.”

“Ruby isn’t anything like that.” Weiss said to me, as if a glimmer of understanding finally reached her. “She won’t cause you any trouble. At least, not the sort he would be likely to cause. Besides, she hasn’t been solitary for very long. She's hardly a vagabond.”

I know that Weiss couldn’t possibly understand, but, that’s precisely the problem. “That is exactly my concern. Ruby’s not likely to last long under these conditions.” I wonder how much detail to speak of, carefully choosing my level of disclosure. Some information is not mine to tell. The military bylaws come before my sister’s curiosity. “You must understand, during my previous dealings with Ruby, I knew she was something of an enigma. Now, I can see that my early assessment only scratches the surface.”

“Welcome to my world.” Weiss says dryly, frowning as she brought the tea to her lips. “That’s just the way she is. Good luck trying to figure her out, I’ve tried for years. Every time I think I've begun to understand her, I realize just how wrong I was. It's a common problem between the two of us.”

I withhold the desire to roll my eyes, settling for crossing my legs beneath my desk instead. “If I knew what was bothering you, perhaps I’d be more equipped to answer your questions. You're obviously concerned about her, though I doubt you fear the girl overworking herself. Why do you want her to take a vacation so badly anyway?”

Weiss is stubborn, and she doesn't budge. “As I keep telling you, the matter is complicated.”

“It would have to be.” I nod ever so slightly. More complicated, in fact, than she likely comprehends.

“Then you must understand why I kept details to a minimum.” Weiss says to me in a way that is utterly daft. "Airing them wouldn't do me any good, anyway."

"Even to me?" I mumble thoughtfully.

"Even to you." She says, the look in her gaze telling me she won't budge.

It's amusing, in it's own way. The way she tries to hide behind that desk of hers. It's all the truth I need. I know that she's keeping something important from me. This situation reminds me of a time log ago, when she used to hide her soiled undergarments as a young child. Admitting that she got lost down the long hallways at night wasn't an option. Explaining that she had been terrified of the dark never came to mind. Her problems back then came with such simple solutions.

If I don't know the root of the problem, how am I supposed to know how easy it will be to fix? How am I to be of any help to her, if she refuses to ask for the right sort of help?

“Well then, perhaps I should make the matter more clear.” It’s time I put my foot down. Show her that I won't give an inch either. If she won't be honest with me, what else am I to do? “Ruby Rose is not the property of the SDC. You have absolutely no right to any privileged information. You aren’t even the first name on her emergency contacts list. If something horrible were to happen to her, you wouldn’t even be the first person I call. What little I offer is out of respect for your concern, but you must understand that can only go so far.”

Like so many times we disagree, she looks at as if I’ve beaten her. This is no doubt because of my high expectations, yet the standard I demand is not impossible to achieve. Quite frankly, it’s far lower than she would ever believe. It’s merely that my expectations of her come from a different place. Her naivety in personal matters astounds me. While I had hoped that her time at Beacon would enrich those skills, they are still terribly stunted.

The silence I’m met with only further serves to prod at my growing agitation. Weiss can be far better than this, and her inability to recognize that isn’t acceptable to me.

“I can only work with the tools given to me. You should know this." I sigh, because at this rate, there is only one thing I can do. "When the detail are hammered out, I’ll send you the address to the bunkhouse that Ruby's currently been assigned to.” I have no way of knowing how that will turn out. It isn’t my place to consider if Ruby will want accept a visitor or not. “I’m afraid that’s the best I can do for you.”

And yet as I hang up the call, I grab that single page piece of paper from my desk. I have every intention of goading Ruby into filling it out. I'm not above bribery. Her silence and cooperation will be at the forefront of our little agreement. After all, I must never forget why I joined the military in the first place.

Weiss has always been a handful, making trouble for me since the day she was born. Though, I suppose that's a well-kept secret too.

Classified, for her well-being.

She doesn't have to know the truth.


	23. Siblings, Part 2/9 (Weiss POV)

In the hours after my talk with Winter, I feel the uneasiness setting in. 

Yang, Blake, and I can only hope that Ruby will accept a warm welcome. We have no way of knowing if she will or not. It’s very possible she’ll refuse to talk to any of us, and I wouldn’t blame her if she did. Blake insists that we remain hopeful. In continued preparation for her arrival we’ve done some grocery shopping and unearthed some of her belongings that were packed into storage.

I don’t like waiting, but Winter has forced me to. I have no idea when she’ll send me Ruby’s address. It’s almost impossible to call Ruby’s scroll when she’s down in the depths of Atlesian fortification. The thick segments of concrete and technology separates out kingdom from the elements. However, it also makes for terrible scroll reception. Ruby might as well still be in the wilds, for as difficult as it is to reach her.

Distracting myself with household chores is the only distraction I have. Together we must to keep our spirits up, and so we’ve thrown ourselves into the things we’ve been avoiding.

Searching several stacked boxes we kept in storage, I finally find the sets of linens for the twin sized bed that Ruby wanted for her old room. She had packed them away before beginning her travels. After washing and drying each set, I place them away in a thin hallway closet beside her bedroom door. Until now, we’ve left it intentionally empty so that it would be hers. While I was doing that, Blake was busy gathering all of Ruby’s tools that used to be kept in the shed back in Vale. There’s certainly enough room for Ruby to claim the small room over the garage as her own. Blake’s been tasked with cleaning and preparing it.

Yang put the fragments of Ruby’s bedroom set together piece by piece in the new room here in Atlas. We chose the one on the far side of our home, as far away from our room as possible. It didn’t feel right. Then again, there never did seem to be a right way to do things.

I wish there had been, but, there simply wasn’t.

Yang has always wanted something akin to a warm and happy family. She talks about to from time to time. Her chatter comes mostly in the form of fond memories, or, at least what she chooses to recall. She admits her upbringing had plenty of unhappiness. It's just that the way she dwells on those memories are different. She remembers them silently with a frown, keeping her distance. Her long rides on her motorcycle are probably where she lingers on the negativity the most.

She focuses on the things she wants, and she talks about those things. It’s just the way that Yang is. It’s no question she wants a large, chaotic family. The topic comes up often in passing. It’s just that something so idealistic has always eluded her.

I want to be able to offer her something like she describes one day, but, therein rests the problem.

A happy family has eluded me too. Even if I knew what one was, the family we try to build would likely be vastly different. It only takes a moment’s notice to understand why. It’s in the unspoken fine print. The obligatory package deals. A ring on a finger is so much more than that. A few simple words complicate themselves quickly. After all, family is a loaded word. Heavy on the tongue. It was meant to be that way. 

It must be a burden for Yang. She must hate knowing that Ruby has feelings for me. She must loath it, knowing that she has to juggle two of the most important people in her life. That she has to do it in a way that just isn’t fair. This is an entirely different sort of rivalry, one I doubt Yang ever expected to confront. It must disgust her when she thinks about how powerless she really is in all of it.

There's really nothing she can do, and that's a bitter pill to swallow.

Though I try to deny it, the fact remains, Yang has faced a lot of hard facts in her life. I can’t imagine what it’s like. There are so many things she's had to forgive. More to condone. So many to smile at...how many of those were false? How many times has she accept everything that has ever betrayed her?

And whatever for? To realize that after everything she’s given up, none of that’s enough?

Family, what a hellacious word.

They’re both suffering though, there’s no denying that. It's not just Yang. Ruby's hurt too. Honestly, there’s hurt on all sides of this mess. There's likely more to come.

Ruby can’t understand why Yang’s is so, so angry. As for Yang, she, doesn’t want to relinquish anything else to her sister.

I wonder how many times Yang smirked her way through a disagreement? How many times did she ruffle Ruby’s hair? How many times did Yang tell her that everything would be okay? I can’t even guess how many times that was. Or how many more times it could have or should have been said. How many things had Yang been expected to simply give up? How many times did she silently resent that?

Then I get to thinking, wondering, about Ruby’s side of things...it's no easier on her end.

How many times had Ruby obeyed? How many times had she followed along with whatever Yang said or did? How many times did Ruby assume that Yang had to be right in a world that had gone so wrong? What else did they really have? What else could they have possibly had? How could Ruby understand any of it, truly?

How could Yang?

I know time couldn’t heal those wounds. Ruby and Yang didn’t stand a chance from the start. They were raised to be this way. It was bound to happen, and, it has.

I had had the luxury of being the middle child. I had a much older sister at my side, guiding me. As a result, I knew what I could never be for Whitley, it was plain as day to me. Yang could have never come to the same understanding. She couldn’t have known. Ruby and Yang are only two years apart. There was no older sister there for Yang. Only the harsh world of adults, and the blissful selfishness of childhood. Yang probably tried to stand as an adult far earlier than she was ever meant to. No matter why she did that, it wasn’t her place to try. Though, it was obvious that she did.

And the unmitigated damage that has caused…

It’s left emotional wounds that are still bleeding. I don’t know if they’re the sort that can be stitched back together. There are some pains that time just can’t nurse away. This fight isn’t really about me, it’s about them. Yang and Ruby, no one else. This is about who they are. The women they’ve both become. They’re separate people now, completely different in the ways that they see the world. A sibling Winter’s age would have known when to let go. She would have made that distance so that Ruby would benefit, but Yang?

The more I think about it, the more I see the truth. I was just the catalyst, but if it hadn’t been me, it would have been something else. This fight still would have happened, because Yang clings too tightly to see the truth. And as for Ruby? She's probably never had a fight this serious with Yang over anything before.

I’m positive of that.

“You’re glaring awfully hard at that bedpost.” I mention, wondering what’s occupying Yang’s mind right about now. It could be any number of things.

“This thing is just a damn pain to fit together, that’s all.”

No, it isn’t. That’s just the start.

I sigh at that, because underneath the surface level agitation, there has to be something more. “Don’t you think you’re being too hard on yourself, and on her?”

Yang snorts at me, but, she doesn’t answer. Shutting down, using the chore in front of her as an excuse. It hurts when she does that. I can’t help but think that I’m not able to be of any help to her.

“You couldn’t have known about Ruby’s feelings towards me.” I don’t know how many times I’ve said that, or how many more that I’m going to have to. “There was no possible way any of us could have predicted it.”

“I damn well should have noticed something.” Yang says, grinding the words between her teeth as she forces the two sides together with more force than she needs. Pulling the wrench just a little too far, the bed creaking as a result.

“She didn’t want anyone to know, you most of all.” I reply.

“Yeah, but if not me, then who?” Yang bites out softly, the metal tool easily forgotten. “You tell me that.”

“I don’t know.” I murmur.

“Apparently, Ruby was after you for years, and I never knew about a damn thing. That goes all the way back to Beacon.” There’s a fire in Yang’s eyes. “Why?” She asks, grinding the word out. “Why wasn’t I told then?”

Which is, of course, a mystery to me as well. I don’t know why. I don’t think Ruby even _knows_ why.

“If it helps, I don’t think it was something she did to be malicious. She was fifteen then, and, she had a lot to live up to.” I say, as if that’s somehow a reasonable defense. It isn’t, but then again, none of this is. This entire argument between them is completely foolish. “If anything, she probably didn’t want you trying to comfort her.”

“Yeah, well that doesn’t make it suck any less.”

“Alright, Yang, let me ask you this…” I trail off with a breath, because what I’m about to ask could truly set Yang off. “Why should you have been privy to that information? What right do you believe you had to it?”

“I’m her sister.” Yang shoots back, with the obvious answer. “She should have told me.”

As if being siblings suddenly gives her the right to know every little detail. As if Ruby isn’t completely capable of her own autonomy. Funny, how that turns out. By that logic, I should know every little detail about my own siblings, but that’s not how life goes. Honestly, it shouldn’t be.

“There are a lot of things that should have happened in your life, Yang. They didn’t, and that’s the cold reality.” I say slowly, sympathy in my voice. “You need to understand, two years isn’t the divide you think it is anymore. It hasn’t been for as long as I’ve known you both. Whatever might have been left of it, Beacon slowly and surely closed that gap.” If anything, what I’m saying is obvious. It’s the safe response. “I don’t know why she didn’t tell you. Objectively, it doesn’t make sense. It’s just that when I think about it, I don’t think it needs to.”

“Yeah, but, it’s not your sister that’s in love with the same woman." She licks her lips, fighting with the words on the edge of her temper. "Ruby never said a word. You had to tell me. Isn’t that just a little twisted to you?”

“From my angle, Yang? Not even in the slightest. I told you about Ruby so that you would know the truth.” Yang just doesn't get it. I'm furious too, but, only at myself. “If you and I were to have something more between us than occasional sex, didn’t want any lies between us.” I swallow hard, because there are so many more things I could say. All of them woefully inadequate. Some of them just too cruel. "I don’t regret anything, selfish as that is."

“Doesn’t stop this shit-storm we’re in.”

Of course it doesn't. So many things would have been buried away if I had never said anything at all. Somehow, I feel as though that would have been a worse crime. I refused to live with a guilty conscience. I promised myself, if I was to live my life as a Schnee, I would at least do it honestly. That's not so say I didn't expect hardship. I just don't regret it.

"It really does amaze me. You could snap every bone on my body in half, and yet you're the one that's terrified. It would be hilarious if it was not so utterly painful to watch." A few steps forward, and I can easily rest my hand on Yang’s head while she sits on the floor. “I’m one compromise, I promise you, that you will never have to make. Ruby's place in my life will never be the same as yours. I will never warm her bed, and she will never have my heart the way that you do. That's just the way it is.”

I leaned down to capture her lips with my own, an awkward thing by nature due to our usual height differences. Normally, she’s towering over me, not the other way around. I wish I could say that such a thing offered her more than enough comfort. The problem is that Yang’s raw strength makes her incredibly weak too. For as desirable as she is, as beautiful as she knows herself to be, Yang’s insecurities are the most formidable thing about her.

Worse, they grow stronger by the day.

Yang isn’t the sort of person that can let her mind drift for very long. When she does, she looks like a lost soul.

“You could have had anyone you wanted.” Yang says to me, and I know she worries about that often enough.

There’s no point to argue that, she would never believe me. Then again, I suppose it wouldn’t be complete vanity if I agreed. My status gives me the upper hand when it comes to suitors. It’s as much a luxury as it is a burden. Since I do have such an opportunity at my disposal, I was often expected to explain my suitors. I was always treated as though if my feeling on the matter weren’t enough of a reason in and of themselves.

The press is my worst enemy, my father a close second, and I’ve always hated that.

Even so, Yang can be foolish, sometimes. “I have exactly who I want at my side. Never doubt that, Yang.”

Yet, I know she will.

She’s afraid I’ll leave.

When she cares about someone, in her mind that’s what they always do.

They leave.

Ruby's made that fear no easier for Yang, and I'm angry about that too.


	24. Siblings, Part 3/9 (Blake POV)

“If you’re of the homosexual persuasion, you should just admit that publicly. At least then we can make proper statements.” I hear Weiss say loudly from her office as I bring in the refreshments. She’s been in a sour mood since this morning, and that paper in her hand is the cause. Once again, the press has targeted Whitley and his questionable tastes in friends. We should have expected that they’d keep their focus on him a while longer.

“It says here that his name is Henry Marigold." She continues. "Who is this gentleman, anyway?”

“He’s a business contact.”

“Is that all he is?”

“I have no reason to lie about it.”

“If you’re in the closet, you have every reason to lie about it.” Weiss deadpans, giving her brother a look she only reserves for the highest levels of stupidity. I almost forgot such an expression could exist. “Most people _would_ lie. I’m openly gay, but at least I’m discreet about it. Given my position at the company and the exact nature of my relationship, I have to be.”

“And we still can’t go on dates without ending up as front page news.” I add, placing a few small finger sandwiches on the desk before placing a smaller plate on the table beside Whitley. He recoils as he always does, keeping as far away from me as possible. It’s as if doing anything else promises only pain.

"I have an easier time of it when I'm out with Yang, but, the aftermath still tends to be unpleasant." She agrees, reaching for her meal while sending me a soft smile. Sadly, it quickly fades. She sighs, scowling at the tea in her cup. The words on the tip of her tongue die before they even greet the air. She licks her lips, pushing it aside gently as she rests her elbows on her desk, her face in her hands.

"Weiss?" I murmur, seeing her shoulders. 

“I was more than happy to keep my mouth shut about this entire escapade at first. I assumed the press jumped to conclusions.” Weiss began, peaking at her brother through parted fingers, the digits sliding down her face as she sat back to regard him. Just as she was about to speak further, her phone rings, and without even glancing at it she lifts and slams the receiver. A harsh breath acting as a pressure valve to her anger. She glares at it, almost daring it to ring again.

“I hope that wasn’t anyone important.” I say softly with a frown.

“If it was, they’d know better than to call the business line.” Yet the phone rings again, and Weiss offers the caller the same rash treatment.

I wish there was something more I could do. However, if the life I live has taught me anything, it’s that occasional complacency does have a place. “It’ll all blow over eventually.” I say, hoping for that to be the case. Even if it isn’t, now is not the time for another Schnee family scandal. "It shouldn't last too long."

It’s then that Weiss lifts an aged amber liquid contained in a crystal bottle. I wouldn’t even begin to question the price of it. She pours just a mere splash into the teacup, but that alone is warning enough that she’s at her wits end. “The more that this goes on, the more I start to wonder about that.” She looks over to her little brother. “Will this blow over, or will you continue to attract unwanted attention from the media?”

Her words are heavy enough that even I feel awkward listening to them. The silence that follows is even more uncomfortable.

Whitly says nothing, instead he regards the warm drink as though it might be poisoned. He looks at me while he brings the drink to his nose, and my distain for him flowers anew in my chest. Its likes he’s searching for even the smallest fragrance out of place, as if I’d actually kill him. Thousands of tiny non-verbal insults come rushing back to me. My memories reduced down to every single micro-aggression I’ve ever encountered. If he had even a surface level understanding of Faunus culture, he would know that I’d never intentionally do anything to harm him.

Hurting him would upset Weiss, and I’d never intentionally do that. Honestly, that’s just not something most Faunus would do.

“It’s just tea.” I say as placidly as I can. Somehow I can still feel a soundless growl in my throat. He doesn’t seem to believe me, even as Weiss takes a long sip of her own.

I just wish he could understand.

We’re not animals. Our traits are just biological manifestations of our heritage. The animal instincts we do tend to inherit aren’t mindless. We’re not rabid beasts, and any abusive tendency a Faunus might have would use the same backwards and twisted logic a human would. We’re not so different when it comes to our intellect. We’re different in how we handle it. We have to be, because we’re looked down on as deranged animals. Most abusive humans just aren’t held to that same standard.

They’re not looked at as a monster to be put down.

The majority of people living on this planet do so quietly. Faunus are no different. The outspoken Faunus within the kingdoms are in the minority. Countless more go on to make their own settlements outside the kingdom, enjoying a quiet life among their own people.

He’s right about one thing, though. We are prone to fighting back when provoked. Faunus will ruthlessly protect what’s important to them. It might be a baser thing, something inspired by our natural instincts. I’m really not sure. What I know for a fact is that if Whitley ever came to harm, I’d be compelled to protect him. It wouldn’t be for his sake, or even for my own. I just wouldn’t tolerate the idea that someone forced Weiss to suffer.

I wouldn't hesitate to protect him. Even if he doesn’t understand that.

He finally sips that stupid drink, and I feel my ire relax considerably. If only the same could be said for Weiss.

“Well aren’t you going to say anything about this mess in the paper?” She presses, fixating on her brother. “Gallivanting around in the public eye like you have, it’s going to raise more than a few eyebrows. I would have thought you’d be more careful.”

Her younger brother shrugs and looks away. His eyes on the window that overlooks a set of shrubbery. He’s probably watching Yang incessantly sing along to her headphones as she works. A bag of red dust and sidewalk salt under one arm, she sprinkles it to combat the ice on the walkway. I take a seat across from Weiss, I look over to her, and I can’t explain the emotions flowing across her face.

There’s fury, but also something more. The silence once again slowly becomes too much.

“Whitley.” My voice is soft, but he still startles easily. He looks to me as though I’ve grown a second head. “We’re not in any position to make judgements.”

“And yet, I am, simply because I’m expected to make them.” Weiss let’s out weakly, her fingers pointing to the photograph that caused the article. “This…” She trails off, tapping the full color image with the tip of her nail. “What do I make of this? What conclusion am I supposed to come to? When my little brother spends his time with men who seems more than a little interested in him, what am I supposed to say?”

Whitley blinks and takes a breath of his own. “Whatever you wish, dear sister.”

“I wish you’d think before you act.” She bites out, loud enough that I flatten my ears. “We really don’t have the time to faff around. Father will find out about this, and when he does, he won’t be happy. You know that.” Slender fingers come up to pinch the bridge of her nose as she looks to me, exasperated. “I thought we would be the ones to make the bulk of the ruckus in the media, but it seems the news got bored of us quicker than I thought.”

“Well, I am just a no-name Faunus.” I reply with a small smirk, causing her to roll her eyes.

“Blake, this is serious.” She murmurs. “And you are far more than a ‘no-name’ Faunus. Don’t sell yourself so short. Father certainly didn’t, given the colorful language you managed to inspire the moment we stepped foot on atlesian soil.” That last sentence carries enough disgust for the both of us. His undisguised hatred of Yang and I speaks for itself more often than not. Of course, it’s not a question why he hates me more than Yang. “Things were so much easier in Vale. I could slip small details under his nose without him noticing.”

“What are the odds that this slips by his notice too?” I ask, reaching for the paper to get a better look at it. “I mean, it can’t be that bad, can it?”

“Unfortunately, he’s the lookout for any more trouble the press might pick-up on. The last time this happened, it put him on edge. For it to slip by unnoticed would be impossible.” Her chair creeks as she turns it to better gaze at the young man sitting off to the side. It’s then she regards her brother again, this time with more compassion than I expected out of her. “Trust me, Whitley, I’ve already had these arguments in this family more times than I can count. You do not _, under any circumstance,_ want to go toe to toe with anyone about this on your own. You won’t win.”

Like so many times before, her warning falls on deaf ears.


	25. Siblings, Part 4/9 (Yang POV)

Blake’s curled up in her favorite spot, the fireplace burning hot and her scroll in hand. She’s glaring at the small rectangle as if it somehow insulted her. “You’re glairing awfully hard there, Blakey.” I say leaning on the wall as I sip from a bottle of ice cold beer. It just doesn’t taste the same here in Atlas. It’s not as refreshing when the temperature outside is colder than the refrigerator. “What are you up to?”

“Thinking.” She says distractedly. The one word reply hangs in the air for a few long moments. She sets the scroll down and reaches for the small glass of wine beside her. She doesn’t elaborate.

“Uh, about what…?”

“Everything and nothing.” Blake begins patting the sofa beside her. It’s all the invitation I need.

“Seems to be a whole lot more than nothing.” I reply, gently poking her. “Your cheeks are turning the same color as the wine.”

“Stop that.” She scoffs, slapping my hand away as she takes another sip. She's not offended though, she's more than happy to let me settle in beside her. For a second, it seems like she won't say anything at all, but then she looks to me with a tilt of her head. “You know, when we first moved up here, I was cautiously optimistic. I knew things weren’t going to be easy, but, I accepted that might just be par for the course. I mean, why live the lifestyles we do if we wanted an easy life, right? We’re hardly typical people, and what comes easy for others would never be the same way for us.”

"We all had been hoping for the best." I say. "That's not a crime."

"Maybe not." She brings the wine to her lips slowly, letting the glass linger at her lips as she savors the taste. “I think I was too optimistic.”

“So, what you’d rather be cynical?” I ask as lean back, putting my arms across the top of the sofa. My fingers of my left hand toy with the tips of Blake’s hair.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far…” She says, trailing off.

We watch the fire for a bit. I don’t really know what she’s thinking as her amber eyes follow the flickering light dancing around the log. Things like that always catch her attention. She tries to hide it, but that doesn’t work very well. She’s given up trying to pretend with me and Weiss. Mostly because it happens too often for her to try and explain her fixation away. It's kind of cute. It's also something she hates talking about, so we never mention it.

“Yang, when was the last time we went out on a proper date?” She asks, thoughtful.

I shrug. “I don’t remember off the top of my head.”

“That’s what I thought.” Blake murmured. "It's so rare now."

“We could go on another one whenever you like.” I say earnestly.

“We’d attract attention.” Blake mutters in a way that tells me she has absolutely no interest.

“I know. You don’t like it. It’s not really your style.” I say quietly.

“Perhaps not, but it’s certainly yours.” She leans into me, sipping from her wine again. “I’m thinking about things like that.”

“Uh-huh…” I sip from my bear again, trying to catch whatever implication she just tossed at me. I have to admit I’m either an idiot, or it really flew over my head this time. I just don’t get it. “So, why do that, exactly?”

“The three of us, we’re just so different.” Blake says passively, her expression soft. “It’s a miracle we’ve been able to make this work at all. Like dates, for one example. I think date nights are best spent where we won’t be a spectacle, but that’s just our current circumstance. I’d be more eager to go on dates if the press in Atlas didn’t swarm us. They never did that in Vale.”

“That’s because people in Vale are used to rich gay people clogging up the streets. It’s not a news headline.” I laughed.

“It has a lot less to do with Weiss being rich, and a lot more to do with her new position at the SDC.” Blake says unhappily, she cuts a growl off short. “I am really starting to hate that damn company.”

“Yeah, also not a new headline.” The way she sighs at me, makes me sigh in return. "See, I can do that too."

"Smartass." Blake says to me, the tiny quirk on her lips is almost a smile.

Almost...

"I'm listening."

Always...

“The SDC itself was never what I used to hate. I hated the principles upon which it was run. I viewed the company itself as the tool for the injustice, sure. However, I was certain that it had an equal capacity for good in the right hands." Another sigh, and a shake of her head. she twirls what little is left of her wine, watching the liquid slosh around in a circle. "Now, I’m not as sure about that. Calling something that monumental into question doesn't do the company any favors."

"It's fine, Blake. It's not like I like the damn thing either..."

"It's the very opposite of 'fine', and I'm starting to realize that." Blake says. "Even if it can be used for good, it doesn’t change the fact that it’s upheaved our lives in ways I’m still trying to adjust to.”

“Like what used to be our date nights…” I trail off, noticing the way Blake’s ears flick at the thought of it.

“That’s one of thing things, yes." She admits, and along with it, I feel a new weight settle over us. "I think back to Vale. We went out often, unabashedly, and we had no reason not to. There were no longstanding repercussions for being affectionate in public, so long as it wasn’t overt. The worst people would do is send us a dirty look, or toss out a snide remark. That was it. It never followed us into the next day. The few times we were in the news, it was a few sentences in the gossip section, never entire articles.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to Atlas, the kingdom of asshats and jackassery.” I smirk. “Screw the press, Blakey. You want a night out on the town, I’ll figure something out.”

“I don’t.” Blake shook her head. “But…” She bites her lip and looks me in the eyes. “I think Weiss does.” She finishes sadly. “And I think she’s hiding it. Weiss likes to be wined and dined, the whole nine yards. You and I could never possibly afford to take her to the places she wants, so we always depend on her to set those kinds of dates up... And, if you noticed, we haven't gone out to do something like that since...” Blake stops and sulks. "Not since Vale."

“Well, I mean, we’re never going to have her kind of budget unless we actually use her credit card.” I say with a soft laugh.

“She was so happy to do all the planning, too." Blake murmurs softly. "The build up to the dates were outings in and of themselves. Clothes shopping, or the beauty parlors. We both know she would never walk past Faunus friendly nail salons for her sake."

"Yeah..." Honestly, our afternoons out at the nail salons are some of my fondest memories. "Good times."

"Most of all, I know she loved showing us off to people who would tolerate us.” Blake looks back down at her wine glass then, finger toying around the rim of it. “And then there’s you.” The way she says that seems distant, but the way her hand slips behind my back pulls me closer. I can feel the way her finger bunch up the fabric of my shirt. It’s like she needs something to hold onto.

I let her take her time, listening for her to continue.

“It’s fun for you to humor Weiss.” She finally says. “You love seeing just how outlandishly the flippantly rich and famous live. It’s always a new experience. You’ll never turn down a quiet night in, either, because someone is going to end up naked and in your arms.” She nuzzled into me, and sighs. “You’re still the party girl at heart, though. You may have mellowed out a little since Beacon, but you still love getting wild and breaking a few rules.”

“Not going to deny it.” I say casually. “I don’t get why this has you all worked up, though.”

“It’s nothing major, really..."

Sounds like it to me, but what the hell do I know? I'm not the one in her head. "Can't I be the judge of that?"

"Weiss made an offhanded statement. She was talking to Whitley. Scolding him, basically. The heart of the matter still got to me. Weiss will never have the luxury to simply be her own person.”

“How so?”

“She’s been an icon all her life in Atlas. The moment she was old enough to be paraded around, her father tossed her up on a stage. The public kept her there, and so long as she remains the head of the company, she’ll never escape it. Being a huntress away from Atlas was her only chance, and she put that life away.” Blake says, her voice dipping. “I’ve always known that her image matters, but, we’re an extension of that image too. We’re going to have to accept being absorbed into her affluent world, and all that it might mean.”

“Yeah, so long as we’re in Atlas, it looks that way, doesn’t it?” I say, because the thought had idly passed my mind too. “Where is Weiss now?”

“Washing away a bad day.”

“Sounds like you should be doing the same thing.”

The sound Blake makes at the back of her throat is vague.

It’s the sort of sound she makes when she doesn’t want to talk about something. She turns her gaze back towards the fire, and flattens her ears down so that she can tuck her head under my chin. A cuddly Blakey, that’s a good cue to let the matter drop. She’s probably not done thinking about it, but if she’s going to let it slide, so will I.

I press my lips to the top of her forehead and watch the fire with her.

“So, Ren sent a text.” I say, finding the change in subject comes easy to me. “He wanted to know if we’re still on for this weekend.”

“That’s entirely up to you, Yang. If working with knots on me worries you, we can always stick with the handcuffs.”

”It doesn’t feel the same though. You like rope, and when you’re in a submissive mood, you like being tied up. I want to be able to satisfy that.” I say.

The idea makes me nervous. My attention to detail isn’t as good as Blake’s. I’m afraid I might screw up somehow, and that freaks me out. With handcuffs all I need is the key or the press of a button. If something goes wrong, she’s free in an instant. Ropes just aren’t the same. The thought of having to cut her out of a knot if something goes wrong scares me. What if she’s thrashes and hurts herself while I’m trying to release her? What if I hurt her by accident?

I can’t stand the thought of it, but I _have_ to think about it.

It’s one of the most prominent rules we have. A product of the way we live. Know the risks, be aware of them, and have a plan in place in case of an emergency. I have to know the limits of what I’m capable of. I can’t afford to be cocky, I can’t risk an oversight…

“Yang.” Blake says, drawing my attention back to her. “When you’re in control, I’ll always follow your lead. Just like when I’m in control, you’ll always follow mine."

"That’s the promise we made to each other." I agree, but it doesn't get rid of the lump in my throat, either way.

"It is." She says seriously. "That promise is the foundation our personal relationship stands on. We’re partners in all ways, and that symbiotic relationship is all we’ve ever known. Don’t disparage that by thinking for an instant that your fears in this aren’t justified. They’re very real, and very valid.”

She’s right about that, but Ren will be there to help, and Blake trusts me.

“I want to learn to do better for you." It's the god's honest truth. "You’ve given up a lot of kinks for my sake. I just feel like being tied up shouldn’t have to be one of them.”

“There’s a fine line between helping a submissive fulfill a desire, and that submissive topping from the bottom." She points out in a way that makes me cringe. "With Weiss involved with us, we have no choice but to adapt fluidly to every situation. Personally, I like to think of it as training too, in its own sort of way. Seeing our kinks from her perspective keeps us honest, if nothing else. However, along with that comes greater responsibility to accept when a limit has been reached between us.”

One of her hands finds its way to my thigh. Her thumb caressing small half circles. I've always liked that. The message is clear though. I need to take this to heart, and not be a bullheaded idiot. I can be, about some things.

“The ramifications of our actions extend directly to Weiss. Our moods and mindset will impact her. It will impact our greater relationship as a triad. Given our personalities, you are much more prone to dom-drop than I am to having sub-drop...” That’s a pretty brutal way of putting it. I don't expect anything less. Blake never cuts corners when talking about the kinky aspects of our lifestyle. “We know that pushing boundaries to their limits may have negative consequences. We’ve accepted those possibilities, and we’ve found ways to deal with them when they’ve cropped up. Weiss doesn’t live our lifestyle. She isn’t equipped to handle them like we are.”

She’s right. For everyone’s sake, I have to take care of myself too. I can't let fear eat me alive. I can't let guilt fuck me over if I screw something up. “I promise I won’t push myself too far." I say. "But if I don’t try at all, I’m just going to end up regretting it.”

“I know that, Yang, but I also genuinely know you’re petrified of hurting me.” Blake says, meeting me face to face. Her eyes locking with mine. “I need you to know that I’ll follow wherever you lead me. If you hold that rope in your hands and decide you can’t, then don’t. We’ll draw the line in the sand and find a different way. Besides, it isn’t as if you’re completely depriving me. I still get tie you up on the regular.”

I duck my head, burying my face between Blake’s shoulder and the sofa. “You haven’t done that in a while.”

“All in good time, Yang." She says in that same brutally honest murmur. "All in good time.”


	26. Siblings, Part 5/9 (Weiss POV)

The tranquility of our breakfast gets interrupted by my scroll chiming obnoxiously. It's a particular tone, one that refuses to silence itself. Blake hates when I bring work to the table, and Yang is quick to temper about it. This time is no different as I excuse myself to retrieve the message. “That’s the military’s ringtone.” I say to silence the impending retorts. I don’t hesitate to snatch up the little rectangle. Blake watches with curiosity, Yang leans over, trying to see the words for herself. “It’s the address to Ruby’s bunkhouse.” I explain.

The two of them exchange a glance.

“What else does it say?” Yang asks.

“Nothing.” The same sort of anxiety in her eyes mirrors how I feel. Suddenly, I’m not very hungry anymore. “Winter didn’t elaborate beyond Ruby’s address and her signature at the bottom.”

I hate feeling this way. Winter doesn’t offer any comfort, either. Why would she? She has no reason to. She’s offered me nothing more than an opportunity. There’s no insight to Ruby’s condition. No clue what her schedule might look like. There’s no guarantee that Ruby would even be there if we were to show up. There’s nothing but a chance. It’s more than enough, and yet, it feels like so very little. I don’t know if Winter chose to be curt for reasons beyond her control. I don’t know if this is her way of showcasing her disapproval.

Either possibility is very likely.

The address on the screen becomes even more foreboding because in the face of Winter's disapproval. I can’t even begin to guess at how Ruby would respond to visitors, but contacting her tends to be difficult due to her location.

“So, what now?” Yang asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

“All three of us showing up at once probably won’t do any good.” Blake says, slicing into a thick cut of ham. “You two should probably stay behind.” Breakfast tends to be a guilty pleasure of hers. Fish is only one of her many vices, but her love of meat goes deeper still. She dips the morsel into the yolk of her egg, devouring it. The expression on her face is nothing short of satisfied in spite of the situation. Predatory seems to be an apt word for it. “I’ll go check in on her.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” I ask, my own meal still solidly on my plate, where I intend to leave it.

“Not in the slightest.” Blake says with another bite perched against her lips. Taking it and chewing thoroughly. The entire time she eyes me, it makes me feel small. “What I am sure of, is that I’m the only one in the position to do anything about this. I think it’s about time that I do.”

I have no idea what _that’s_ supposed to mean.

“Blake…” Yang mutters, elbows leaning heavily on the table.

“Yang.” The air between the two of them is entirely unwholesome.

“Perhaps I should be the one to go.” I say, trying to cut the tension I feel brewing between them. “I agree that all three of us showing up at once might be a bit overwhelming. If that’s the case, it would make sense for me to go.”

“And what would you do once you got there?” Blake asks, still chowing down on her breakfast as though it might flee the table if given the chance. The question itself is fine enough, I suppose. Frankly, I don’t know what I would do. How would I, until the moment of truth arrives?

“I’ll speak with her.” I say, suddenly feeling parched. Taking a swig of the drink in front of me. “Ask her to come home.”

“There’s a good chance she won’t.” Yang says quietly, picking up her fork, poking at the yolk of her egg until it’s formed a pool of yellow upon the plate. “We’ve done as much as we can to get everything ready, but it might have been a waste of time.”

“Yet, that’s the goal, isn’t it?” Blake asked. “To bring her back home, where she belongs?”

Another fine set of questions, but if things were that easy, Ruby never would have left in the first place. None of this would have gotten so complicated.

“She’s the one that walked out, Blake.” Yang grumbled then, no small amount of hurt in her tone. “We didn’t kick her out on the street. She left.”

“I’m not defending her, but, nobody’s blameless in this.” Blake only shrugs, seemingly more interested in sopping up the last of her meal with a piece of toast. “It’s not my place to tell you two how to live your lives. How Ruby fits into that, that’s really up to you. The same goes for me. I’m free to decide how Ruby fits into my life, and the two of you know where I stand.”

A lot of old disagreements lay buried between the three of us. The uncomfortable conversations rise to the surface every now and then. Blake’s not like Yang and I. Her views on this topic are drastically different. They always have been.

“Blake.” Yang says, her eyes seeping red. “No.”

“You’re my partner, Yang, you don’t own me.” Blake says in a way that’s completely foreign to my ears. “I can do what I want, with whomever I choose.” It’s with this precise conclusion that she sets down her fork and knife, dabbing at her lips with a napkin. It’s rare to see her so cold and decisive. “Am I wrong?”

Yang just looks away guiltily. There’s a story there. Something personal between the two of them. There's probably some deeper meaning that I'm not meant to comprehend. I wish I did, but, I don't.

“That was the arrangement we formed.” I say quietly. “It's just that exclusivity between the three of us has always been the norm. It never occurred to me that you may seriously want expand your personal relationships outside of it.”

“That’s because Ruby’s the only other person I’ve ever kept in mind.” Blake tells me. “It’s a point of consideration on my part. I have no idea if she’d even be interested.”

I lick my lips. “If she was?”

“Well, that would end up being my concern, now wouldn’t it?” Blake says, the question needing no reply. “Knowing the mess she’d have to deal with, I’ve never let myself try to include her.” Blake looks to me earnestly. “There was never a good time to give it a chance. There still isn’t, but, she’s going to keep distancing herself. Do you really want to let that happen?”

“Blake I care very deeply for Ruby. You of all people know that.” I can already feel my stomach turn uncomfortably. “But those feelings are platonic. I’d never be able to make love to her.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to." She says it so easily, but there's a weight there. "However, it’s time to take a good look at ourselves.” Faunus ears tilt, amber eyes sliding behind closed lids. “As our relationship stands, something is going to break eventually.”

A fist slams on the table, Yang's reaction impulsive at best. The silverware clinks under the force. “I _don’t_ want you with Ruby!”

“Hence the inevitable breaking point.” Blake stands, collecting the dishes. “We’re toying with fire, and if we continue, we're going to get burned. All of us. You see, in a committed monogamous relationships, both parties agree not to stray from their union. In a relationship like ours, we’ve willingly tarnished that agreement.”

“I don’t understand what that has to do with us.” I say, my hand falling over Yang's still clenched fist. “Or with Ruby…”

“It’s all down to a matter of trust.” Blake says, the sharpness of her tongue hitting me. “Without monogamy, you include the possibility of choosing favorites. Infidelity becomes ambiguous. The question of being unfaithful shifts. It’s no longer a question of sexual advance and emotional intrigue. It becomes a question of acceptance. For example, if I were to choose one of you while simultaneously neglecting the other, that would still be unfaithfulness. It would still, ultimately, be infidelity.”

“And the relationship is only as strong as our weakest link...” Yang adds shamefully, as though she shoulders that blame. “Blake, don’t do this… _please_ , just don’t do this…”

“You each have your reasons. I won’t ask you to disregard them. I promise that I won’t bring her into our bed.” Blake replied, as though her decision has already been made. In truth, she likely made it years ago. “But, I can’t promise that I won’t go to hers."

I know what she’s saying, but it doesn’t make it any easier to hear. Yang seems to agree, the red bleeding out of her eyes, replacing hot crimson for wet lilac.

What we have, it’s not simple. My mind keeps returning to that one quiet murmur. It’s just not that simple. It never has been, it never will be…

We cannot doubt ourselves, nor can we doubt each other. We either trust Blake not to hurt us, or we don’t.

But, there's more to all of this than that, isn't there? It’s not that simple, it never has been.

So, what do we do, now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, I guess an author’s note is in order. If you don’t care you can bypass this. Up until now the topic of Ruby’s relationship has been a question for a few people. I wanted to address that since now’s the proper time.
> 
> When I first began writing this story, I wanted to really rip into the characters as we knew them. The only clear goal I had was that it wasn’t going to be typical of the usual team RWBY dynamic. I wanted to play off of each character, taking what I saw to be their worst flaws and bringing them to the surface.
> 
> Ruby: bullheaded/naïve.  
> Yang: abandonment/anger.  
> Weiss: stunted worldview/emotionally sheltered.  
> Blake: Acting on her own to the detriment of others/slow to reconcile and correct mistakes.
> 
> I wanted and needed a powder keg to set all of this off in the right way. Something important to all of them, the stakes had to be high. Something they’d all come to respect, again, for their own personal reasons. Ruby became perfect in so many ways. The impending Blake/Ruby relationship is why I didn’t want to answer things too deeply before. I thought if I said too much, it would give the ship away, and I really didn’t want to do that until I knew for sure how to proceed.
> 
> At the time of conceptualizing this fiction, all I knew for certain was that I wanted Ruby’s relationship with Blake to be fundamentally different. I wanted it to contrast sharply with the somewhat domestic household events that you’ve all come to see from Blake/Weiss/Yang. I also wanted to formulate a dynamic that inherently challenged Yang’s fears to the core, and forced Weiss to chew on her decisions in life as a person. 
> 
> So, as I’ve said in comments before, Ruby will eventually have her happiness, but, it won’t come easily to her. This is obviously going to upheave the whole household/team. Now that Blake’s finally thrown her hat in the ring, and emotions are going to fly.
> 
> For those of you eyeballing Winter, yes she has a part to play in Ruby’s future too, but it’s not romantic.


	27. Siblings, Part 6/9 (Blake POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait, the final chapters of this arc are so fundamentally important to everyone's progress that I was dancing the writers block mambo with both this chapter and Yang's upcoming chapter that will be posted in a few days. The wait (at least on this arc) shouldn't be as freakishly long anymore.

It isn’t exactly love.

It doesn’t have to be.

It has the power to eventually become love, but, it could be something else entirely.

Something equally as important and entirely free from the confines of labels. I know that Yang doesn’t understand. She can’t see the intricately woven details of our team’s old dynamic. She allowed herself to be blinded by the social normality of what bound us together. She never once considered the role she easily fell into simply because Ruby was our leader. Weiss was the same, falling into line by habit.

Being on the team required a rote sense of memorization, mindlessly achieved, thoughtlessly obeyed.

We easily took Ruby’s commands by instinct, because that was the nature of the beast. The social construct of Beacon Academy. It’s all mental conditioning, just like anything else. It cannot and should not be taken lightly. Yet, willfully, we succumbed to those simple logics placed before us by our betters. We never truly defied those norms. Ruby’s leadership was gifted to her not out of superiority, but, also by the command of others. Four long years in Beacon shaped the mindsets we came to consider normal. It planted seeds for that construct to last long into the future.

Some people adapt more easily to that mindset, again, just like anything else. Conditioning.

For me, the team construct is also my social construct.

The way I think, the way I thrive. It might be true that I’m a switch. It might be true that I submit almost as easily as I dominate. However, it’s the social hierarchy that I most cling to. The sort that allows me a greater place and higher power. When I fall into a place all my own, something betwixt and between those two utmost extremes, that’s when I am at my happiest.

Team RWBY gave me that place.

It was a place of guidance, a net of fellowship. I knew perfectly well what I was supposed to do. I knew exactly the sort of person I was supposed to be. Ruby’s expectations were easy to understand, simple to achieve. Her statements weren’t unfair, but direct disobedience was never an option, either. I knew when to defer to a command greater than my own, and bowing down to that command was the thing we all needed most at the time. There was value in our small family-like formation, a creed all onto its own.

I easily adapted to that frame of mind, contextualizing it outside the heat of battle. Applying it to contours of my daily life. I found myself more at peace when those concepts provided a safe harbor within my romantic endeavors. I’ve long held the perspective that Ruby’s command over the team should have become something more. I waited for the day when it would be. The day never came, and many rock solid foundations within myself have begun to crack. The foundation itself, without it's most principled bedrock. Without that moral compass, Ruby, as my guide. 

I won’t last much longer under these types of mental restraint. The sort imposed by my own biases and the fragile expectations of those around me.

I don’t need to explain myself to Yang. I don’t need to defend my position to her. I won’t coddle her like that. It’s never been my way. We are partners, plain and simple. Neither one of us holds continued authority over the other. This is our truest weakness as a couple. We can’t make long lasting demands that might jeopardize our equal partnership first and foremost. The issue is, I need more. I require a place befitting humility and retrospection, I need a power greater than my own.

Regardless of its use, that’s the nature of submission, in all of its many forms.

That was my place, a lower station to conceptualize every move I made. Ruby once provided that same place for me as our team’s leader. Yang knows that inherently. She might not accept the implications outside of combat, but, she does understand them. 

Weiss, on the other hand…

“How long are the two of you going to fight for this time?” She asks once the evening approaches.

“Long enough, I’d imagine.” I set my book down at my side and look out the window layered in a thin sheet of frost.

“That’s hardly the comfort I was hoping for.” She says, as though she’s disappointed in the both of us. I wouldn’t blame her if she was.

“We fight like this often, it's almost unavoidable, really. My relationship with Yang has always contained that complexity. I don’t expect you to understand.” I tell her frankly. I can’t afford to do anything else.

“What if I want to try and understand it anyway?” She poses.

Then, it’s an allowance I’ll have to make. It’s just that simple, and that convoluted. A let out a small breath, looking to Weiss who takes a seat at my side. “Alright then, time for a thought experiment. Let’s say we were on a mission right now. If I were to blindfold you so that you couldn’t see and tell you to keep walking forward until I told you to stop, would you?”

“What does that even have to do with anything?”

Everything, but, she can't know that yet. “Just answer the question.”

She sighs, rolling her eyes at me. She thinks it's a stupid question, I can see it in her eyes. “I’d think it would be ridiculous to blindfold myself on a mission. No, there's a very good chance that I wouldn’t do it.”

“What if Ruby ordered you to do it?” I asked then, my voice growing softer against the gravity of the implied meaning.

“I don’t…” Weiss gently clenched her teeth, looking at me as if I lost my mind. I expected that expression. “I don’t think I understand. Why is Ruby any different?”

“It’s an important question, Weiss.” I murmur. “If Ruby ordered something like that, would you do it?”

“Stranger things have happened, I suppose.” Weiss muttered, not entirely fond of admitting that, even if it was true. “You know the sort of schemes she got us into. They were crazy, some of them never made any sense-”

“But, you trusted her not to lead you astray." I say, interrupting her. "Regardless of how little sense it made, you'd trust her that much. You followed the orders that she gave you. No matter how stupid they might have sounded, you let her be your guide…why go that far?”

“She was our team leader, and my partner.” Weiss said, as though it were that easy. “If she came up with an idea _that_ moronic sounding, she more than likely had a good reason for it.”

It was probably the nearest jump in logic I’d ever get out of Weiss, so I took it and ran with it as far as I could.

“In my personal opinion, in BDSM, that level of trust is absolutely required.” I say to her. “Sometimes, a submissive may be ordered to do things that don’t fully make sense to them. Even if the orders are clear, sometimes they don’t even understand themselves enough to know what good it will do. In those instances, you have two options. Question every little detail, or blindly trust that you won’t be guided astray. It’s a very thin tightrope to walk, Weiss, people can get hurt if they’re not careful.”

“Then why live like that?” Weiss asked, blue eyes burning into me.

“Why be a huntress?” I asked in reply. “Many concepts are the same."

"No they aren't." The way she shakes her head, the petulant refusal, it reminds me of our earliest conflicts. Her upbringing digging in deep.

Her old life used to hold her down. Stuffing her into a standard that she doesn't fit into. Her mind molding her unhappiness by expectation she couldn't possibly live up to. A trash can merely that, a trash can. A lamp post strictly that, a lamp post. You could have carried the thought further of course, she certainly did. A woman, simply a woman. A man, undoubtedly, a man. Back then, her black and white view of the world was entirely that, chaining her into place. A human was a human. a Faunus was a Faunus. As a human, she belonged in one place, and the Faunus decidedly in the other. Never the two should met.

That was a dangerous concept. In her mind; deadly.

Exposure is what settled those fears, allowing Weiss to completely rethink and reform her conjecture based on solid evidence. It didn't happen overnight, and this discussion is only yet another seed planted in the confines of her mind. I have no idea if it will grow, taking root as part of who she can be as a person. I will have to try and cultivate that seed carefully.

"Think about it as a huntress." I say to her. "We understand the rules that govern our social groups. We follow the social order and chain of command. We respect the inherent dangers of the lifestyle, we prepare for them as best as we can. We treat our positions with reverence, and welcome our kin carefully, but always openly." I wonder how different her mindset would be if I had spoken more openly at the start of our relationship. I wonder if she would be here now, her mind doing backflips against the years of my carefully thought out logics. "If BDSM seems so barbaric to you, so terrible, then so is being a huntress.”

She nods, probably trying to piece together the mess from the morning. There’s a lot of things that I know as truth. Things that Yang knows as fact, if little else. Those are not things Weiss needed to confront before. Her position in the team offered her an extra layer of authority Yang and I never had. Her place in this relationship, as a vanilla lover, meant that she never needed to know the harsher confines of my mind either.

They were never within her reach. I never allowed them to be.

That was my fault. I should have found a way to explain this sooner. I need to keep finding ways to educate her on the founding principles I personally hold as law.

“Say I believe all of that…” She trails off with a sigh. “Why are you so set on Ruby all of a sudden?”

I find myself smirking in spite of myself.

“If you think it’s sudden, then you’ve taken Ruby for granted.” I say as the sun begins to set in the sky. I need to try and talk her through my careful conclusions, but that won't be today. I can't rush this, or that all too important seed with die a slow, protracted death. Frozen over by her own fears. “Ruby’s filled voids in my life I didn’t even know I had. Deep down, I’m starting to need those things back. It’s not fair to ask her to come home without offering her something. The problem is, the only substantial thing I have to barter with is myself. Like I told you this morning, I don’t even know if she’d want something akin to a relationship, but if she did…”

I’d willingly give her that much, without question.

Maybe, I’d give even more.


	28. Siblings, Part 7/9 (Yang POV)

Training doesn’t always work the way I’d like. Burning off the rage takes time. My semblance is a powerhouse. I’ve been punching this bag for hours now, but I’m still so angry. I might be making it worse with each strike, but still…

What more could Blake really expect? What does she want me to say?

That I’m okay with this? Her and Ruby? Like it’s no big deal?

Just the thought of it makes me sick. The idea that’s she’d go off and touch Ruby come back and…

Screw that. I’m not okay with it. I’m not ever going to be. No dice, I’m not going to play that game. I don’t care how long Blake stands in that god-damn doorway looking at me like I’m the one at fault. I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m not going to turn around. I’m not going to give her the time of day.

I won’t…

I won’t…

I won’t…

“Let go of me.” I say, seeing more than feeling her arms wrap around me. I hurt, but I feel numb too. It’s my semblance turning pain into power. I drop my fighting stance. "Damn."

“You reek.” She says, head already laying on the blade of my shoulder. “You should take a shower.”

“Leave.” I can’t look at her right now. My skin’s itchy. Pins and needles. I focus on that. It’s better than focusing on her.

“No.” One arm tightly rests at an angle around my hips. “You should know me better than that.” The other clings at my waist. Her fingers sinking into the damp fabric of my shirt, nails gently catching the fabric. “You can’t chase me off that easily.”

And she’s the one that calls me a stubborn ass. I let go of the breath I’m holding, it doesn’t make me feel any better. “You’re really pissing me off.”

“As if that’s ever stopped me.” She says, that same hand around my hips finding the hem of my shirt, tucking herself beneath it. Her thumb wanders on my skin. Aimless. Like that’ll be enough to cool me off. She’s wrong. It’s not going to do shit. "I'm not here to start a fight."

“I said leave.” I hate when she does this.

She acts like I’m the one at fault. “Careful, Yang. Don’t say things if you won’t like the result. One day, I might listen, and you’d regret that.”

Go away already. Just… Just… “Fuck off.”

“Why? So that you can lick at your wounded pride? Don’t villainize me for the sins of others.”

“Then don’t do what other people did.” I bite out. It’s not fair, not on her, not on me. It’s never going to be.

“If you reduce everything down like that, you’re not going to like it. You’d end up being your own worst enemy. You can’t just ask me to flip a coin and choose who I keep in my life. It doesn't work that way between us, it can't. It won't be sustainable.”

“I can ask you not to sleep with my sister.” I shouldn’t even have to ask that. I shouldn’t have to say it. Why doesn’t she get that? "You can respect that, can't you?"

"When you're reasons are flawed, no." Blake says. "I can't."

"Then that's on you." I say, forcing the words out of my mouth.

“Maybe a little. It's not just me, though. It's you, too. Could you stop boiling everything I say about Ruby into something about sex?” She pulls away, her touch disappearing from my skin. “Although I suppose that’s easier, isn’t? If you can reduce it all down into how deep I can get my fingers into her snatch, it doesn't have to mean anything else. At least then she’s never going to stand a chance against you, am I right?”

I raise a hand to my face. My eyes sting. I can’t turn around, I won’t let her see me like this. “Even thinking about that makes me sick.” I grumble, trying to keep my voice even. I can’t let her hear it shake.

“Better than feeling hurt. Better than inadequacy.” Blake says in a way that just sucks. “Better than the pain you might feel if you had to share me with her.” It’s like she knows me too well. Bone deep. Too deep. I can’t take that anymore. “For all you know, we might just sit side by side on a park bench eating ice cream. You know there's a good chance it won't just be sex, if sex is involved at all. That’s what twists the knife in, isn’t it? That Ruby might have a place in my life that you just can't reach?”

“If you know that, why even make the suggestion?” It’s a stupid question. I’m angry all the same.

“Why not?” Blake responds, her hand falls onto my shoulder. Another attempt at crossing this divide with touch. “Why does Ruby have to be the deciding factor that defines so many things in your life?” Even if I hate doing it, I feel my eyes lock onto that gentle touch. It’s so stupid what she does to me. “You’re a guilty soul, and that’s always going to resonate with me. Through very little fault of our own, the world has given us some very real burdens. We carry them with us, asking questions we might never find the answers for…”

“So?” What the hell does that matter? “What of it?”

Blake hesitates before speaking. “Ruby doesn’t have to be another one."

"She chose to be!"

"No, she didn't." Blake says, I can almost hear the way she tastes those words. "You’re forcing Ruby to be something that she doesn’t have to be. She’s your sister, Yang, not your enemy.”

Blake says that like it’s so easy. She just doesn’t understand.

Even when I try to explain it, she just…

It doesn’t click with her. Never has.

This time, I’m the one to pull away, stepping into the next blow aimed at the bag. I feel it absorb the impact before the bag starts denting in on itself, the innards seeping out the other side with a loud tearing sound. It was a new bag, too, but nothing lasts my training for long. My fists can dent steel. Sometimes, I’m really afraid of my own strength.

“It’s not normal.” I finally manage to say. “I get it, some people have that fantasy. A set of sisters caring for the same person. That would be a dream come true for a lot of people.” Not me, though. That dream is my nightmare. “In reality, that’s just not normal.”

“And what we have with Weiss, _is_?” Blake asks. "The life we're living right now, that's _normal_?"

I know it isn’t. I get that, but...

“Blake, it’s way more than that. It’s like…like if I wanted to be with your mom…” It’s the best example I can give her. “You really want to think about my fingers half-way up your mom?”

“I would blatantly choose not to think about it.” Blake mutters, as though the image entered her head without her wanting it to. “I wouldn’t want to know anything, obviously. If you did do something like that, I’d never, _ever_ , want to know the details. It’s not like you could get her pregnant, though.”

“You still hate thinking about it.” I point out, I can feel the grit in my voice.

“I’d be more disturbed if you were sleeping around with my dad, actually.” She says, truly looking bothered by that thought. “I mean, if he accidentally knocked you up, that would be…” Blake shivers at the thought, ears pressing down flat against her scalp. Her eyes slam shut as she shakes her head with a grimace. That one grossed her out. “But your body _is_ your body. Whatever you do with it, that’s up to you.”

“So, you’re saying, if I flew to Menagerie right now, and screwed your parents, you wouldn’t care?” I ask. “Nothing would change?”

“Things would have to change.” She shot back. “They’d need to at least a little bit, right? When you add other people, things just...” She walks over to the weight bench and sits down. “They change, Yang. It happens.” She says, laying down and looking up at the ceiling. “It happened when we added Weiss, remember? Our lives changed. That didn’t make things bad, it made things better. ” Blake rolled onto her side. Eyes glued to the floor, searching the tiles. “So, as long as you’re not trying to hurt me… Or passing around sexually transmitted diseases…”

I hope it’s starting to sink in…

“Yang, I love you.” Blake’s voice cracks. She doesn’t look at me, like she can’t anymore. “If you came to me and honestly admitted that you needed something like that, I’d buy you a ticket and put you on the next flight out myself.”

“You’d be hurt, though.” I say, under my breath. There’s no way she’d be completely fine with it.

“So be it.” She says. “If that’s what it takes to give you what you need, so be it. That’s the kind of length I’m willing to go for you, don’t you see that?”

Nope…

I don’t.

If she really meant that, she wouldn’t go to Ruby.

“You just don’t understand.” I sigh. That’s what hurts. How can the one person who knows me bone deep, how can she just not get me? “If I told you something like that, I’d want you to be selfish, Blake.” I tell her. “I’d want you to say no…”

"And I'd want to be sure that you had everything you needed." Blake says to me. "Even the things I'd never be able to provide you with myself. If it comes down to conceding the point, then so be it."

"Yeah, well I need you to leave Ruby out of this." I bite the inside of my cheek. Now I don't even have a good bag to punch.

Blake stands back up, an almost defeated look in her eyes. "Give me a better reason than the fact that you don't want to share. I'd be willing to listen. The fact is, you can't. You're pissed off at her, for not telling you the truth about Weiss. You've infantilized her, into someone who could never want to have an adult relationship. Neither of those things hold any real ground. You've got to face the fact that you're the one acting like a child." She makes her way to the door, one hand resting on the frame. "I am going to go see Ruby, and I'm going to have a talk with her. If you choose to contort or perverse that reality, that's on you. It's not on me." 


	29. Siblings, Part 8/9 (Ruby POV)

I’ve been ordered to sit here in this small room to wait. There’s a coffee table, two sofas, a small fridge for drinks, and a cot in the corner. I’ve only waited in rooms like this when a mission comes in. Sometimes I spend hours just passing the time until someone comes to get me. Usually it’ll be Winter, but others have done the briefings before too. Anything can happen in the moments before a mission starts. It's not unusual to have some sort of problem. There must be another hold-up, but honestly, anything’s better than staying in the bunkhouse.

There’s too many nosey roommates there.

Too many people smiling, and talking about their families. Too many people who want to ask me about mine. I'm not used to hunters like these. Usually hunters come from all around to take missions, but the bunkhouse I stay in isn't for outsiders. All of them are atlesian hunters under Winter's command. They're very closely knit, curious about every bunkmate, no matter how antisocial. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I know they're just trying to be nice. I'm just not used to it.

Not anymore.  

I’m armed to the teeth, I’ve gotten my pack prepared for a month in the frozen wastelands. I can be out there longer if I need to be. I won’t give Winter a reason to find a fault in anything. I won’t let myself get benched for any longer. If she’s heading out, so am I. If there’s a mission that’s landed on her desk, I’m taking it.

I’ve supplied myself with the best Atlas has to offer. If anything, I’m spoiled by the sorts of requests I can make. Now, I’m almost over-prepared. Redundancy for the sake of it pads out my survival gear. A small thin case of tools fits easily into the pocket I’ve sewn into my bra. It even has Velcro to close the pocket shut. Crescent Rose is completely modified to handle the smallest hardware possible. Her firepower hasn’t diminished either. Best of all, I could take her apart and piece her back together in a blizzard.

I just have to wait, so I run over everything in my pack again. Where it’s located, why I put it there. I question the weight again, test it, and that kills a little time.

I feel fine, and I want to go back out in the snow. I want to feel useful again. Everything’s just so heavy within the barriers that protect the lower half of the kingdom. Steel, concrete, and dust. I want to see the sky again. I need to feel the wind in my hair. Those are things you just can’t get down here. Even along the top of the walls, it just looks out into emptiness. It’s not like the tundra to the south, full of life.

Rabbits, owls, elk…

Our southern tundra is the closest thing we have to the forests in Vale. If I had my choice, I’d take a long mission out to the south, get my bearings. Those kinds of missions are rare. People in Atlas don’t know how to deal with the wandering Grimm. It’s all open land. Atlas itself is more than happy to build itself high above and down below where the Grimm can reach. The areas most fortified are the most oppressive as well. People would probably go insane if they stayed down here for too long.

The door unlocks. I grab my pack, but, it’s not Winter.

Blake stands in the doorway, and I collapse back down. I haven’t let go of the straps to pack. The material crinkles in my grip. I swallow loudly enough that I’m sure Blake heard it. I want to get out of here, but I’d have to push passed her to do that. It’s probably why she’s just standing there. Keep calm. My semblance can outpace hers. Her clones can’t keep up. She steps in, closing the door behind her. That’s my chance.

“Don’t even try it.” Her usual gentle monotone has turned stern and factual. “I’ve brought reinforcements this time. If you even think about leaving, Winter will freeze you to the floor. Your orders are to stay here and talk, even if it happens by force.”

Damn. Breathe. Think. No way out. Fine then. Bide my time. Wait it out.

“You’re not getting out of this conversation.” Blake says, she's right.

“What about Yang and Weiss?” I ask, if I don't like the answer I'll leave. If either of them comes through that door, I’m going to lose it. “Are they waiting around to ambush me too?”

“They’re not here.” Blake says, setting her weapon down by the door. She’s too confident. Maybe she’s banking on her clones after all. Who knows? “I told you, I’m looking for a conversation. I know better than to put any of you in the same room right now.”

I let go of my pack, hunch forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “This isn’t within my usual mission parameters.” If there’s anything I can say, it’s that. Cling to facts. Don't look up.

“They’re orders, Ruby.” I know that, I wouldn’t be staying if they weren’t. I can’t risk going against Winter. If she’s really out there...

"Do I look like I am?" I shoot back.

"No, but I know you." Blake responds. I hear her footfalls. Her soft breath. "Are you really going to defy her just because you’re pissed off at me?”

Stupid question...

It’s a low blow and a dirty trick, but, Blake’s always been the wild card. I’ve used that to my advantage before. I should have known that she could easily turn around and use those same tactics on me. What else can I do? Nothing. Stand my ground. Don't look up. “I’m listening…” I say, because I’ve lost this battle of wits. If I leave now, it won’t be a victory.

Could there even be one anyway?

“Trust me, I get it. Sometimes, you just need to turn your back on it all and go.” Blake says as she sits down beside me. “The problem is, you’re not going to escape this. You can try, but you’ll always fail. From my perspective, I don’t know what you’re trying to do. I don’t know why. I don’t even know if any of that matters anymore.”

“Probably not.” I say, and I hate that I even have to. “A lot of bridges were burned, Blake.”

What else does she want from me?

“I don’t need you to listen, Ruby. I need you to talk. Since you won’t do that, there’s nothing I can do.”

“There’s nothing else _to_ say.” I shoot back.

“Then, maybe you’re the one that needs to listen.” Blake murmurs. She edges closer, only slightly. I don't know why. “Maybe you need to do that for yourself, for your own sake.”

“I’m so tired of that.” I finally find myself saying under my breath. “I don’t want to hear any more excuses.” That's the truth. I just want to live my own life, do my own thing, and try to get over it. No one has any intention of understanding. They don't have to. It's fine. "I think I've heard them all, anyway."

“Oh, fuck that.” Blake murmurs. “Ruby, Yang didn’t know. You never told her. Hell, you never told me. Weiss had to.” Blake groused out harshly. It was like she was chewing on each word, sliding them between her teeth. “Those are the facts, it’s everything else that’s a mess.”

“Yeah, well don’t expect me to clean it up.” I’m not going to do it. Not this time. I’m tired of cleaning up after Yang. Shrugging my shoulders when her temper gets the better of her. She’s made a bigger mess out of more missions than I can count. She jumps in blind, swinging her fists around. Missions get personal, digging themselves under her skin and staying there. She has no idea what kind of pressure that puts on me. She’s too selfish to really get it. “I’m tired of being the scapegoat.”

It’s not just Weiss, it’s everything...

“No, apparently it’s my job to clean up this whole mess.” Blake says, and I know she’s angry. She can join the club. It was only a matter of time. “Yang’s a hothead, Weiss is set in her ways, and you just can’t take a hint, can you?”

“I took it just fine.” I say quietly. The numb feeling in my chest is kind of soothing. Better than pain, anyway. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You and I both know that Yang would have never approached Weiss if she knew the truth. She respects you too much to do something like that. You didn’t tell her. You clammed up, shut down, _and then you broke down_. We were worried about you, idiot. Weiss caved because she gave a damn, and if that’s some horrible sin, you need to look in the mirror.”

I have.

More times than I can count.

I can’t tell her that.

“Still won’t talk?” Blake asked, standing up and walking over to the door. She takes a seat in front of it. “I’ll wait you out then. You’re not leaving until you do…”

That's her strategy?

She must be more desperate than I thought...


	30. Chapter 30

**Siblings, Part 9/9 (Winter POV)**

"Surely you've noticed that media seems to have taken an interest in Whitley, haven't you?"

"Yes, of course." I say slowly with a roll of my eyes. Klein keeps me well informed on such matters. Even if he didn't, I do happen to glance at the headlines. "It would be hard to miss."

"Then, surely you know that such news had not been received well by certain parties."

"Yes, Klein, I've suspected that too. However, I can only attend to one family crisis at any given time. As you know, Weiss often requires the post attention."

"Yes, well, I won't argue that." I can hear him sigh at length. "Even so, it may prove beneficial to the young master if you were to come home in a show of moral support."

"It might, but, as I said, I'm currently busy with other matters."

"Winter, please, come home. A short visit from you would do wonders to help mitigate the tension around here."

"Thick as always, is it?"

"You could eat the air, given your father's rage."

"Delusional or otherwise?"

"a mix of both, which is why it would be best if-"

"If I were to come home for a short stay." I say interrupting him. "I will think about it, but, for now I really must tend to other matters." 

I hang up my scroll, pocketing it as I place aside concerns for my brother. It will have to be tended to another day. I cannot leave my current post, not at this current moment.

 My thoughts circle, just like my pacing.

There are many responsibilities I must attend to. I find that today I won’t be able to accomplish as many as I had hoped. Instead I’m walking along this one lone hallway in a slow stride. Every time I pass by one door in particular I stop, I listen, and inevitably I continue to pace. The silence on the other side of the door is deafening in and of itself. The sounds of my own passing footfalls are heavy enough. I don’t think I can fathom what’s going on inside.

It’s unimaginable.

Once again I’m reminded of just how different huntresses are. No words being spoken, no rustlings, or sounds of life. It’s just like huntresses to be soundless even while in a heated disagreement. I take a breath and continue down the hall. I’ve done as I’ve promised. Ruby’s compliance in this scheme isn’t up to me anymore.

“This is very unorthodox, isn’t it?” The familiar voice behind me says.

“So it is.” I agree softly, wondering what brought on such a question.

“Should I alert the rest of the personnel in the area?”

She waits for an order, obviously confused. Programing trying to override what vague human logic remains in the girl. “No.” I say to her, letting the order hang in the air a moment. “That is not necessary. Blake Belladonna is not a threat.”

“Ma’am, she breached our security procedures. Isn’t that a threatening action?”

“Yes, normally it would be. However, this time we will allow it to take place. She did strictly as I expected she would.” Penny wants to disagree. Something stops her. She swallows down whatever else she wants to say, and I glance back at her. “Consider this classified.”

“…But…that’s…I do not understand.”

You don’t need to understand.” I say to her. It’s truth, little more. I certainly can’t begin to understand this lunacy either, after all. How could I possibly expect a girl like Penny to?

I can only feel a passing sympathy for the girl. She’s far more machine than human. She’s such a gentle soul, but she’s unable to properly fathom the world around her. Penny is forever fated to be an adolescent. Even if we could put her soul into an adult’s body, her mind and maturity level would never age. Fated to forever be a young girl, even as those she cares for grow older around her. Intellect itself is easy to teach and impress upon her. However, without the life experience to go along with it, Penny’s naivety shows.

She struggles with her place in this vast world.

“If I don’t do well, my father will be displeased.” Penny says, fingers pressing together. A learned behavior. I haven’t been able to train her out of it.

“You must simply obey the orders that you’re given. So long as you do that, you will not be at fault.”

Penny nods, I resume my pacing. Moments pass, but Penny finds her voice once more. “Ma’am?” She’s inquisitive. That’s partially the machine trying to learn, and what’s left of her humanity clinging to her youthful curiosity. This only worsens the fact that she's unable to keep up with the lives of those around her.

“What is it now, Penny?”

“Ma’am, when will I be allowed to see Ruby?” She asks, as if hoping my answer will be different.

It’s not.

“I cannot tell you that.” I say, seeing her deflated expression as it skitters across her face. So emotive, even for one that could typically be considered inhuman.

“I see.”

My heart goes out to her. Being unable to age must be tragic. “Ruby is very busy, Penny. She doesn’t have the time to look after a child such as yourself.”

“Oh…” She says despondently.

As I pass by the door again, hearing nothing, I realize the futility of it all. Penny lingers for longer this time before catching up to me. A distraction is in order. “You don’t have time to be fooling around either, you know.” I say to her, my tone offering no argument on the subject. “You have duties of your own to attend."

"Do I, Ma'am?" 

"Yes, you do." I affirm with the same strictness I used to impose on my siblings in their teens. "For example, you still haven’t finished organizing my office. That should be among the list of your top priorities.”

Penny nods quietly, I can see the flicker of mild frustration in her eyes. If it’s her programming or true emotion, that’s hard to tell. "It will be done today." she says, still following me around like a lost duckling.

Once again, I feel as though I’m the villain in all of this.

I hate it.

I don’t condone this entire mess that Weiss has gotten me into. I don’t understand where one problem ends and the other begins. Perhaps it’s the years that separates us. Maybe it’s just because we had a stringent upbringing. I’m not sure. Whatever it is, it makes me feel complicit in all of my sister’s many failings. I feel as though leading by example has only burdened her further. I fear she will never be able to fully and completely come to terms with what it truly means to be a Schnee.

Our bloodline, a curse in and of itself. Vast enough to confuse her and condemn her. Countless histories echoed within each red droplet that flows within us.

Father favored Whitley after the boy had been born, and as expected, Weiss suffered dearly for her young age at the time. Too little to comprehend why her doting parent suddenly found his interest resting elsewhere. After all, our parents were wealthy enough never to battle the unsightly details of parenthood. Influence for the sake of it, coming in the form of praise and scorn alike. A heavy hand, a few words. No matter what, our father looked down his nose at us. Each tiny imperfection scrutinized and belittled.

Starving for some form of approval, we looked forward to each day hoping to be praised. Our parents offered such lonely affections. Yet, as children we knew no better. Thinking it was something normal to be treated with such disregard. Perhaps, for children of our ilk, it _was_ normal.

Still, I find it all very inexcusable. That Weiss reflects our father's behavior at times, it's truly saddening to see.

The years that still separate my siblings and I seem even crueler now. What I could once justify as childlike indignity, I can no longer even tolerate. Weiss will always be the most fragile sibling. The one requiring the most care, the gentlest coddling. I wonder, is giving in this way is just another failing on my part? My inability to properly guide Weiss as I should have?

After all, I certainly have no other reason to entertain these odd requests. Whatever dispute that seems to center around Ruby really isn’t any of my concern.

This silence still goads at me either way as I pass by the door again…

I greatly dislike it.

Ruby’s a skilled huntress though, I’ll give Weiss that. She’s worth the headache that this entire thing causes. Ruby’s an asset, she must be looked after and accounted for. Skilled subordinates are difficult enough to come by. Truly loyal ones are a cut above that. Ruby is an entirely different matter. She’s a huntress with the cunning of a beast. Feral, but, not untamed. Trustworthy to a fault, with a steep price if betrayed.

Almost rabid, I’d say, in the face of Grimm.

She has everything she needs to live the harsh life out on the open road. To survive it. Even while it systematically cuts her down bit by bit. She would endure those wilds until nothing was left of her humanity. She could live that life until she wasted away to death. She has an even greater potential here in the military. If only she would see it as a home, rather than a last resort. If only she could assimilate out of a desire to forge a place of her own.

If that happened, there would come a day that Ruby Rose would surpass me. Under the right conditions, that would be inevitable. She has the training, the experience, and enough time on her side to do it.

I won’t allow her to slip through my fingers. She’s too useful in more ways than one. Too much wasted energy that could be put to better use. The question is, how can I accomplish that? Until I can figure that out, Ruby’s nothing more than a disciple of her old trade. She’s like dog chained to a fence. Starved for attention, and kicked one too many times. A bloodhound, willing to work for scraps of passing affection, yet terrified all the same.

She’s like I used to be. Knowing a better life waits beyond the fog, and still choosing to loom in the depths of that murky hell anyway. The heart wants what it wants, and instinct alone is not enough for anyone.

I don’t like that Weiss won’t fill me in on what’s really going on. I don’t like the sour taste in my mouth whenever I think of the dispute that must have happened. I comply with my sister’s request because it’s easier than starting a ruckus of my own. I’ve done everything she wanted. I sent the details like I promised. Then, I did one better, issuing Ruby a request to station herself in one of our deployment rooms. I did everything Weiss asked me to do, and everything that needed to be done.

Still, this doesn’t sit well with me.

I gave my orders, issuing them to Blake by technicality. Ruby didn’t hear me say them, and if she runs, I can deny any involvement in this entire plan. I don’t like it anyway. Something just feels off about it. I don’t know the cause, but I do know that Weiss is certainly to blame. At least, she is one of the parties to blame. There may be more, there may be less. I don’t know.

There are too many little truths that no one will tell me, and Ruby just won’t say a word either.

I said that I was doing this for Weiss. On the surface, that still holds true. Still, I am a Schnee. I can be as ruthless and as calculating as my father before me. I was the one gifted the benefit of his attention. As the first born, I was given all of the privilege that Weiss and Whitley simply weren’t allowed to have. In my early years, it was my father’s favoritism that gave me everything I needed. In the later years, it was his ignorance that allowed me to escape.

Weiss had none of the luxury that I had. Furthermore, any potential our parents saw within her died the moment that Whitley was born. I wonder if silently Weiss resents us for so much of her suffering. I wouldn’t blame her if she did. After all, my position afforded me many things. I was able to do a great deal, at the expense of leaving my siblings behind at the manor. I justified it then, but now, I have no words for it.

Even after all this time, Whitley and I seem to absorb the many luxuries she manages to find. Weiss needs to work three times as hard to gain a fraction of my success, and an ounce of peace. For all that she tries, her failings suck away so much of her happiness. It proves she has not changed as much as she likes to think. That she is still trapped within the ridged confines of bloodline that she sets for herself.

My dear sister has much to learn when it comes to matters of the heart. Sadly, these lessons are the ones I cannot teach her. The only thing I can do is provide a safe harbor when her mistakes grow to be too much. I must not forget that now is one of those times.

I have Ruby under my command. Her team leader. A place Weiss had forged all on her own, without the family influence. Her best friend. The one person she never thought she _could_ lose.

All of it coming into question the way that it has...

Weiss must be hurting terribly...

Perhaps it’s for the best. It will be a lesson well learned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next week, not sure what day...but next week for sure.


	31. Divide Part 1/4, (Weiss POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll just plop this here...
> 
> Uh, see you next week...
> 
> Once again, I'm not sure on the day, but sometime...

**Divide Part 1/4, (Weiss POV)**

It’s been a handful of hours since the creaking of the front door caught my attention. Blake went to Atlas Academy to speak with Ruby.

It’s also been a handful of hours since there’s been any racket in the household.

Yang said nothing when Blake headed out with her clear destination in mind. I expected to hear an explosive rage, a shouting match, Yang’s strength getting the better of her again, anything really. Instead, there was only a calm sense of defeat. A quiet sigh later, Yang flopped down onto the sofa and stayed there. Gazing up at the ceiling, Yang just laid there. It’s like I wasn’t even with her, beside her. I could have been a ghost. She never would have noticed. I don't know what hurts more, observing it first hand, or, knowing why Yang's like this.

Honestly, I would rather try to patch a hole in the wall. It would be easier than trying to put Yang’s heart back together. The fractures and scars are too numerous to name.

Besides that, in some capacity, they’re both right. Yang and Blake. I can't just choose a side.

Yang’s too afraid of letting go even a little. This is a fight she just can’t win. At least, not the way she’s trying to do it. She’s obviously angry, but there’s something else beneath that.

Giving her some space seemed like the right thing to do. It wasn’t because I refused to comfort her, but because I’m not entirely sure that I could. Failed attempts are sometimes worse than not trying at all. Yang’s a compassionate person, fragile when one might least expect it.

I said to myself that I’d wait a few hours.

I’d give her a few hours to sort out what’s going on in her head. Give her peace, if little else.

That’s what I told myself as I walked down the hall and locked myself into my small office. I used my scroll as a distraction, but all that gave me was another tidbit of trouble. Another tabloid, Whitley plastered across the cover. I feel like there's insanity at every turn.

Will anything I do ever go right?

It’s rare that I drink hard liquor, but a small crystal shot glass came in handy as I poured some amber liquid from the bottle concealed within my desk. It’s finely aged, a housewarming gift given to me by Klein. I’d always thought the gift somewhat disgraceful. As though he might be enabling me to follow in the footsteps of my parents. I never said as much, I had no way to know, but that had been my assumption. It's smooth, easy to swallow, but it feels heavy too. It's not like a fine wine, or warmed tavern ale.

Thinking on it now, the aftertaste of the alcohol on my tongue, I wonder at my own naivety.

Klein always has a reason for the things that he does. Now that I think about it, he doesn’t do anything without a good cause. He’s not reckless, and he’s always had a very mild temperament. He could be strict, and often was. In spite of that he was never cruel. He rarely scolded me. The times he did were justified. Even when he was completely furious, his voice was always tempered carefully with his turns of phrase. He didn't need to yell. He never needed to be crass.

The color of his eyes were expressive enough to determine his mood regardless of his tone.

They say women are often in search of men that resemble their fathers. For the most part, I don’t think that’s true. After all, mine was nothing more than a terror to his wife. Why would I want to emulate that? Why even choose to? I would have never sought a person like him. Wouldn't give into the same cycle passed down to me. I wouldn't let it continue over and over again.

A person like Klein, though…

Well, I suppose Yang is not completely unlike him, really. They have some things in common.

She may not be a man, but, even simple adages can be twisted. If given enough time and social change, isn't the working theory the same? Regardless of what that might mean, my observation rings true. Perhaps not in personality, but in the telling signs beneath her words. That part of her, that’s familiar. It always has been. The reason why it comforts me might be closer to home than I thought. Another reason under the many layers in my life that makes me care for Yang the way that I do.

Her expressions are harder to contain given her nature. By virtue of who she is, and the semblance she carries. She can’t hide it. Not completely. In that way, she and Klein are very much the same. Both of them are unable to conceal their emotions.

Their eyes give it away.

Her moods are also very easy to read. Harder to navigate, perhaps, but easy to discern. The red that bleeds into lilac. That makes no mistake. From lust to rage, the depth of that crimson color is the hint to all things on her mind in that moment.

As it turns out, a few hours might as well be a lifetime. It seems that way, the ticking clock hardly a companion when I’d most like one.

Maybe a few hours is too long.

Until I know what to say, going out there seems like a horrible idea. Then again, so is sitting here with an open bottle of alcohol and a shot glass in front of me. Closing up the bottle, I choose the lesser of the two evils. I can only hope that I don’t agitate Yang further by trying to help.

I hardly step foot back into the living room before a question ambushes me from out of nowhere.

“Why’d you really turn her down?” There’s a gravel scratching Yang’s voice. Edging it in a way that’s more than a little rough. It’s strange, almost aimlessly direct. As though the question is completely rhetorical, and yet demands an answer all at the same time. She's been doing that more and more. Finding ways to make my breath catch in my throat. “Why didn’t you really say yes to Ruby?”

It’s a fair question, perhaps, because it’s not something I’ve ever had to answer.

Blanket questions, and answers in equal measures come to mind. General statements and a lack of attraction were simple enough to kill off Yang's curiosity at the pass. That’s not what Yang’s asking though. Not this time. Not now. Not when the very real threat of having to share her lover with Ruby turns her stomach.

What she’s asking is more methodical. I wonder if she even knows what she's doing?

The answer isn’t going to satisfy Yang, truth or not. “Would you rather the alternative? That I would have started a relationship with her, regardless of my feelings?” I ask, because frankly, I never would have done that.

Not with Ruby.

“Why not? That’s what you did with Blake and I.” Yang shrugs, trying to sound casual. That grit is still in her voice. Choking off the usual gentleness her tone carries. “You didn’t love us back when we started up. It was just sex back then. You could have had that with Ruby..."

She's not wrong, I suppose.

"You didn’t…" Yang continues. "Why?”

“She was a child, and her confession reflected that. What other reason would I need to deny her?” I murmured, knowing that while it was true, it wasn’t the entire reason. Only a small part of a much more complicated reality. Which, I suppose, is why Yang’s asking in the first place. The old truths don’t comfort her anymore. There’s more to it than that, she knows. She’s always known, and perhaps that’s my sin to bear in all of this.

None of us are completely blameless, deep down, I can’t deny my own wrongdoings. So many of them lay in front of me.

“She grew up…” Yang said, and with it comes the Grimm accusation. “Why not then?”

The implicit goes unsaid.

_Why not now?_

That’s what she really wants to ask, isn’t it?

I have no prerogative to answer questions that go unspoken, implied or not.

“By then she was out of the question.” I say, answering the surface layer question that Yang gave me. “I had already chosen to spend my life with you and Blake. That was enough for me. It’s what I chose quite happily.”

“It’s that straightforward, huh?” She asks, she doesn’t completely believe me. She’s right not to.

What a mess…

I can feel what seems to be a heavy weight in my belly. As though I’ve swallowed down a cannonball that rolls around wanting to be regurgitated. I’ve never felt something so vastly different from the other sorts of pits that settle in my gut. This one is so insular, I don’t think I’ll ever come across it again. At least, I hope not.

“Nothing is ever that straightforward, and I won’t pretend that it is.” I say to her. “However, at that point, I wouldn’t have even thought to consider Ruby as a spouse or life partner. Even if I had, Yang, it would never have worked out.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes.” I sigh. I feel sick. “I’m sure.”

“Doesn’t make all that much sense to me.” She shrugs. “You guys were close. Want to know the really shitty part? I always figured something like this would happen. I just didn’t think Blake would be the one to do it.”

“That’s because you are without a doubt a completely ridiculous person.” I say, fully and honestly believing that. I cross the room and straddle her. The highly unladylike position is enough to get her to look at me. I don’t know why she wants to know the details of my past decisions so badly. They’ve already been made, after all. “Listen, Ruby and I would not have been compatible.”

“Okay…” She says slowly. “You say that a lot.”

“Of course.” Saying it over and over, it doesn’t make things hurt any less. “I say it because it’s true.”

“Yeah…”

I roll my eyes. She’s going to give me a migraine at this rate. That’s the last thing I need on top of everything else. “Ruby is very much a free spirit. She has goals that do not extend beyond her own measure. They are not made from legacy, or from demand. They are simply her beliefs and she lives by them. She’s attuned to her own motivations, for better and for worse. In that way, she’s not like the rest of us.”

“Alright…”

Yang doubts me, and this is no fault of her own. How could I possibly put this? How can I make it easier?

“I could never entangle myself with a person like Ruby, not romantically.” I says then, resolving myself to the dirty details I’d rather not speak of. They’re self-deprecating at best. “If I did, I wouldn’t be able to have the life I feel born to lead.”

“She’s always supported you…” Yang presses, still doubtful.

She's hesitating.

Why is she doing this to herself?

To me?

“As have you.” I bite out softly. “Now stop being completely boneheaded. It's beyond frustrating.”

Yang says nothing, perking up. There’s a question on the tip of her tongue. A dubious quirk of her lips telling me she’s not amused, but I can’t bring myself to care about that.

"I'm not fearless, either you know..." I don't even know where I'm going with that.

It's moronic, really.

I never thought I could become so dependent on anybody.

That something like that happened twice. Yang and Blake have become so much more than I ever thought they would be.

And to think that Yang can't understand that...

Fine then.

She wants to know everything.

The dirty little detail I haven't said?

That I haven't told her?

Fine then...

“Ruby’s outlook on the world is far too whimsical for me.” I say, because I know I’m a cynic. I try to stay positive, but, I know I’m insecure about too many things. Things that Ruby cannot quell. She was never able to. “In the long run, the sort of life she wants would not be for me. It’s as you said. You, Blake, and I… We started our relationship without any pretense. There were no strings attached. I could fill the void, and still plan for my future.”

I have her attention now, fully, and my next admittance just flat out hurts. “Upon reflection, I would probably be a very cruel lover if left to my own devices. Monogamously, I would likely never survive a marriage. With as much time as I spend working, I would no doubt have ended up neglecting a single partner.”

“You’re not like that, Weiss.”

“Oh, yes I am. More than you probably want to admit.” Yang’s just been too lucky. She hasn’t seen that side of me. She should know it’s there, but, maybe she’s just chosen to overlook that. She tends to overlook a lot of things for my sake. This is one that I refuse to let slip by. “One of us has to, and I won’t make excuses for it. I am that sort of person… I asked Blake once, if I had been neglectful of you. She denied it, but, I think love smoothers over many of my faults.”

“Well, I’ve never felt neglected by you, so-”

“It only seems that way because you have Blake.” I interrupt, feeling a very familiar wave of guilt over that admittance. “In my absence, Blake is able to give you the things you need. Just as in her absence, rare though it is, I am able to be here.”

And yet, my first option was to lock myself away in my office.

What does that say about me?

I am a horrible, horrible person.

“It is the nature of what we have that allows it to flourish." I force myself to say, ignoring the obvious cracking in my voice. There no avoiding it now. "When I said I wasn’t attracted to Ruby, I meant that, Yang.”

Yang swallows hard, loud enough that even I can hear it. Her eyes look down at my hands, my palms smoothed over her abs. They flex beneath her shirt, and I can feel that too.

This foolish idiot...

Why won't she just hold me?

“I still mean that, and it goes far deeper than just in looks. Ruby would have hated the life I wanted to lead.” I say softly, bunching the fabric of her shirt in-between my fingers. “Taking over the company has always been my one true ambition.”

I need her to believe that.

To believe me.

“That was never going to change.” I force out, I can hear my voice shaking. So many dirty little lies of omission. So many god damn false smiles back then. Nobody got it. Nobody really understood. I was going to come back to Atlas.

With them.

Or without them.

“Sure, it didn’t happen like I’d planned.” It’s out now. I can’t stop it. “I figured I’d have more time before I had to settle down." My eyes burn. "I assumed that I could enjoy a few more years as a huntress before moving onto this stage in my life…but ... _this is what I wanted_.”

What kind of person does that make me?

“Nothing was ever going to change that.” I mutter with gritted teeth. I don’t deserve to cry. Not over something as stupid as this. “But if anyone on this planet had even half a chance at holding me back, _it wasn’t going to be Ruby_.”

Why is love so god-damn hard?

I don't know, and I don't think I ever will.

"I'm sorry, Weiss."

But she's finally got me in her arms, and that's all I care about right now.


	32. Divide Part 2/4, (Blake POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was at a festival/farmstand all day today, which is why this is going out a few hours later than planned. 
> 
> Next chapter posted between August 5th- the 10th, I'm not sure when exactly, but among those days.

** Divide Part 2/4, (Blake POV) **

It’s a waiting game, and Ruby’s not a weak adversary by far.

Time crawls by, the clock on the wall clicking a slow and repetitive rhythm. Ruby clings to her silence, eyeing the door. Occasionally she'll shift to eyeing me. Gears turning in her mind, possible escapes likely conjuring up from her ears of experience. Still, she sits there placidly, as a huntress is trained to do. The road has been harder on her than the rest of us. The harsh northern winds have beaten against her body, the cold seeping into her bones. It leaves an impression that an exhausted traveler sits in front of me. Worldly wise, and with a drop of jaded cynicism to color her expression.

When did she begin to look this way? I don't recall the moment, but this image is familiar all the same.

 She pulls out a flask, the abused metal gleaming as she takes a sip from it. I don’t know what’s inside, but the way she licks her lips indicates it might be something sweet. Another sip, and the flask disappears back to where it came from. I don't know if that's a blessing or not. She puts it away with a sideways glance towards me. Watching again, I don’t know why.

I don’t know a lot of things, like the small details that lay heavy on her mind.

Instead, I see what those details have done to her. I can’t even guess at which is more painful.

Missions have not been very kind to her, and neither have the places she’s stopped to rest. She carries an aloof air about her now, as though she doesn’t belong anyplace for too long. As if she were to become a hindrance if she stayed. Still, her silence persists, and it seem so final as she strives to maintain it. Her composure is the first to bear a crack, eyes averting as her lips rub together.

As if, she wants to say something.

Eventually she makes her way over to the cot in the corner, collapsing onto it. Back turned, eyes closed, a bone deep sigh falling from her lips. Such a slight sound, but I catch it regardless.

I don’t think I’ll get another chance. I unlace and pull off my boots. The snow on them long since melting into tiny puddles on the floor. My coat follows next in the heap. I want her to say something, anything, even if it’s just to try and send me away again. If there’s just a little bit of fight left in her, it’ll be worth it. My actions are slow, a gamble the moment I move even an inch away from the door.

I could easily place a clone there, but she could just as easily slice through it.

She has to know I’m serious now. That I’m not going to just let all of this go. I wouldn’t be able to without losing everything now. Each step I take risks her running away again. I’m halfway to that stupid cot, and I’m afraid to make another move. If she decides to bolt, I won’t be able to catch her beyond this point. She’s smart enough to know that, too.

I wonder if that’s what she’s been waiting for. To draw me out, and away from the door so that she doesn’t have to fight me. If so, I need to think of a way out of this mess we’ve found ourselves in. Something with a better outcome for the both of us.

I just don’t know if there really is one.

One last appeal then. It might not be enough.

“I’ve hurt two people by coming here today. I won’t give you the luxury of being included in that number.” I could get on my hands and knees and beg her to come home, and even then, I’d leave empty handed. “I don’t think you know this, but the longer I stay, the longer that Yang has to think the wrong things about all of this.” Ruby doesn’t even move, no reaction, it’s just dead air in here. Talking about Yang might just make her angry, but I’d take that over this silence.

The only question is, how far do I push this?

“Yang’s going to be pissed off that I even came here, but, I told her the same thing I told you. That I was only here to talk.” I bet she doesn’t have a clue that Yang doubts that. That Yang believes differently. “Yang thinks we’ll end up doing more than that.”

Leave it vague. Test the waters. There’s no guarantee that laying all of this out in the open will work. Even if it does, there might be hell to pay later.

“Yang knows there’s a possibility that we’ll end up doing more. You and me.” I’ll let Ruby decide what that something is. The cards are in her hand on that, always have been. I’m still here for my original goal. I’m here to bring Ruby home, or at the very least, get her to agree to be on speaking terms. “Yang knows that on my side of things, I’d be open to it. So, in her mind, it’s possible.”

The cot creeks under Ruby’s weight. A sign of interest, perhaps. Her shoulder rolling only a little, a soft breath keeping her from being completely still.

So, I have her attention then?

Good.

“Anyway, she may not be completely right, but, she’s not entirely wrong, either. The longer I stay, the less I can justify my reasons for even being here.”

Regardless of that, those reasons are mine to have.

“I knew that coming here might ruin things completely between Yang and I, she’s so stubborn sometimes…” I knew that going in.

I knew all of this, going into it. It was a risk, and I raised the stakes.

“You know what? I’m pretty stubborn too.” That’s just a fact. I wish that I wasn’t so bullheaded, but even so, I’m the least stubborn out of my team. Yang’s and Ruby’s level of stubbornness is without rival, and Weiss isn’t far behind. “If I have to go home empty handed, with nothing to show for it, I’ll bear the weight of that outcome for the rest of my life."

I would have to.

There wouldn't be any other choice.

I'm prepared to do that, but, if that's the case.,..

"I’ll gladly take all the blame on this one, Ruby. I'll let Yang be angry at me for making this worse." I tell her. "But If I'm going to do that, I might as well be guilty of everything Yang will accuse me of.”

I firmly believe that, too.

I begin to unravel a few black ribbons I keep under my coat while traveling, both of them sliding to the floor. I pull the one out from beneath my shirt, untying it slowly. A small case of razor wire drops from the folds. Both the small mental case and the ribbon hitting the floor. There’s nothing left now. All I’ve got left are the clothes on my back and my bare hands.

“What do you want from me, Ruby?”

Anything…

“Whatever you want.”

I’ll give her anything…

“It’s yours.”

“I wanted you to forget about me.” It’s the first thing out of her mouth after these long hours of silence, and its music to my ears. “Why can’t you just forget about me?”

That little idiot.

Does she really think I could just do that? That any of us could?

I make my way across the room faster than I intend to, nearly jumping on the too small cot and around the crumpled up ball that Ruby has become. The scent of the wilds is the first thing to touch my nose. The stagnant smell of snow that has thawed and dried over time. There’s a soft grit to her hair too, as though she was walking along the crystal dusted paths the upper walls are known for. There’s fresh salt in the air too.

The kind that come from tears.

The ones I feel hitting my hands, wrists, and arms as I pull her closer from behind. I feel like I can finally breathe. Years of poison begins to leak out of her, I don’t know how much remains. The white knuckled grip she’s managed to get on my forearm hurts, but she clings instead of pushes. Her fingernails have always been caked with grit. Oil, dust, dirt, the signs of her trade and the complexities of her craft. Even when she keeps them clean, her nails themselves are always chipped or uneven, worn down to the quick with as much as she damages them.

It’s such a small thing, but the way they dig small crescents into my skin is little more than a comfort.

So long as she clutches, she isn’t pushing. So long as she does that, she isn’t going anywhere.

“I can’t just do that.” I mumble into her hair. “When someone walks into my life, I can’t just forget they were ever there.” It’d be easier if I could. So many horrible things in my life could be erased if I could just forget.

But I can’t. It doesn’t work that way.

If only it did, but, it doesn’t.

“I can’t just forget you, Ruby Rose.”


	33. Divide Part 3/4, (Yang POV)

She must be so tired. Why else would she end up falling asleep like this? Weiss is a strong person in a lot of ways. That strength makes it hard to see the small fractures in her composure until it’s too late. It a well-known fact, but, it’s easy to forget too. That’s the way she likes it, I think. Out of sight, out of mind. She’s conscious about so many things, thinking that they’re weaknesses.

She hates that her body is less than the perfect feminized hourglass. Her mind is so much sharper than the average in her social class, and that keeps her up at night. That’s the other problem, the contrasts between her upbringing and the way the world actually is. There are so many ways to break her, because confidence doesn’t come to her naturally. Only textbook fact and proven research, everything else theory at best and opinion at worst.

And when faced with the worst, well, let’s just say; all the compassion in the world doesn’t do any good if the ones ailing don’t want it.

I don’t know what I expected…

Not this.

Maybe if I thought things through a little more, or, maybe if I tried to be a little more careful. Would the outcome really be different? Or was all of this just a matter of time?

It isn’t fair…

So many things aren’t, I’ve seen my share of that. At this point, we all have. Plenty of people have thrown shit back in our faces over the years. It's just the way it is. The list of excuses people come up with are amazing. Anything to get rid of the blame. Anything to turn it back on someone else. At the bottom of the bottle and at the end of road, if you don’t have anything else, you can keep your justifications.

On the surface they’re free…

They don’t cost anything, not a cent.

In reality, the cost is…

Well, I don’t know…

Not exactly…

But, it’s there.

Life has a good way of throwing a wrench into the best laid plans. I forget that. More than I should, really. I don’t… plain… all that much in the first place. I try not to think too far ahead. I don’t want to. That mindset tends to clash violently with Blake and Weiss. One keeps diaries and the other keeps schedules, but, both of them have pens to paper. I keep forgetting that they lay out a future in some form or another.

They have aspirations, and those things mean something to them.

Even if it’s just nonsenses or impossible dreams, they have them. It plays a role in their lives. Each step they take, it has a method to its madness. You can trace a line from who they used to be, and follow it all the way to who they are now. You can follow that line further to the future, if you wanted. I just never really wanted too. I never saw the point.

As for me?

I just go where it seems I should, I make choices based on that.

This…

This whole situation that I’m in right now, with Weiss curled against my chest, this is where my life has taken me. More or less, for better and worse, this is the life I lead. I didn't have it all planned out, so I was a little reckless. I never thought about the other side of the coin. I have no choice but to see it, now.

This is what happens when you take someones plans and shit all over them. It’s what happens when you act like they were pointless efforts in the first place. I might as well have ripped up thousands of little plans, acting the way that I did. Might as well be confetti, for all the respect I paid to them.

I don’t want to be that person.

I don’t want to have to be the villain in my own relationship.

I don’t want to do that...

Weiss doesn’t deserve my shitty attitude, it’s not her that I’m mad at. It was wrong of me to second guess her. People have twisted her motivations enough over the years. I shouldn't have ever done it.

What do I say to lessen the blow to my self-esteem? How do I explain it, somehow? Rather, how I do I do that without making a list of excuses?

I don't...

It’s never been that easy. No matter what I do, it’s never good enough. It can’t be, cause the moment things are going good, I fuck it all up. That’s just the way it is, like a bull in a damn china shop. In spite of that, Weiss is right about something…

Ruby would never be able to give up being a huntress, not even for those she loves. It’s too much of her core identity. She’ll never give it up. Weiss would never give up the company, either. Add all that up, and what’s really left for them? What life could they actually build? One would hardly be around, and the other would be crammed into her office.

The writing’s been on the wall since day one for them...

There’s no question in that, because Ruby, she plans too. She dreams. She always has.

Me…

I don’t want to dream and be let down. Not again. I don’t want to make a plan only to have someone else rip it up. I became a huntress so that I could take each day as it came at me. So that I would never need to know anything beyond that. Being a huntress, I could take it or leave it. Like so many other things, it just doesn’t matter. A job was a job, and it suited my needs at the time. Frankly, I just don’t give a shit about things that don’t matter.

It’s not worth my time.

Weiss and Blake, they matter. They’d always matter, even if I was half-way around the world. Same with Ruby. She’s my sister, for all that it might, or might not matter to her at this point. Not knowing that sucks too. Ruby and I used to tell each other everything... I don't know what changed, but my condescending attitude sure as hell didn't help. If that isn’t the worst part of all of this, I don’t know what is. Cause at the end of the day, I don’t know what screwed up my parents, or their team, either.

Who the hell knows what got Summer Rose killed?

Huntresses of her skill, they don’t just die... I don’t know what happened, but damn, I wish I did.

There’s only one thing that I can almost guarantee.

And it’s the one thing that makes me feel more powerless than I ever have in my entire life. I know Ruby, I know me, and that’s all I need to know. If we don’t fix this mess, history’s going to repeat all over again in some fucked up way. Last thing I need is Ruby going off on her own one time too often. I trust Winter, sure, but Winter isn't me...she's not Weiss or Blake. We're Ruby's team, not Winter. 

We got to fix this…

Somehow…

I’ll need to start small I guess.

Weiss first… I’ll apologize again for being a complete ass, pick up the pieces and make it up to her. That’s an easy fix, because Weiss knows I'd never try to hurt her.

Blake next… Though, no clue how…

Then Ruby…


	34. Divide Part 4/4 (Ruby POV)

** Divide Part 4/4, (Ruby POV) **

She just wants her team leader back. That’s what she says, anyway. That even if we don’t go on missions together anymore, she misses what I represented in her life. I don’t ask what she means by that.

I don’t want to know…

It’s hard to believe she needs me at all. She has Weiss and Yang. That should be enough, she shouldn’t need me. I think that’s really the thing that gets me the most.

Winter interrupts, says there’s a mission she’s been signed up for directly from Ironwood himself. It’s an escort mission for high ranking visitors. Big money’s coming in, and he wants to impress them. I’m not required to be there, but I know it’ll look good to the general if I show up. I’ve got get ready for departure, but that also means I need better looking clothes. I have a white military uniform back in my footlocker. That’ll work. I go back to the bunkhouse.

Winter will leave without me if I don’t hurry.

I have everything I need, but, I can feel Blake’s gaze burning into my back as I check my ammunition and mark lines down my checklist. This isn’t what I planned, and it’s nothing like the mission I wanted. I won’t turn it down, though. A mission is a mission. Plus, I could use the distraction.

“Ruby, do you like it here?” Blake asks, her voice unsteady. The way she’s looking up at my bunk makes me realize she’s never actually thought about life within these walls. Her fingers run along the metal bedframe, utilitarian by default. Everything about this life is that way. I've gotten used to it, but, it's nothing like Beacon. It's not even like the homes I lived in back in Vale.

“I could live like this for the rest of my life.” I say when nothing else comes to mind. “I don’t hate what I do here.”

I don’t care that I bunk here. It’s not about liking the accommodations. I hardly see these four walls, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s fine.

“Ruby…”

“I’m not here enough to care.” If I was, it would probably be different. It’d probably feel like something else, a jail cell maybe, I don’t know. “That’s not even my bunk, not really.”

“It’s not?”

“We rotate between the upper part of the wall and this lower part.” I tell her. I still can’t bring myself to look at her. I know she’s thinking about what I’ve said. She’s trying to make things right, but things are just too raw. I’m better off on my own. “Only people stationed this deep into Atlas are the people resting up and taking a break. Most people don’t even sleep in these stupid things.”

“Where do they sleep then?”

“Wherever they are when they go on leave.” I say with a shrug. “There are some regulars in this house. People with no families to go home to, I guess. Winter has a place with the other specialists, but she doesn’t use it much. Usually she’s in one of the academy dorms or the small apartment she has off campus entirely.”

“You don’t have to stay here. You could come home, you know…” Blake says casually, I hear footfalls, telling me she’s looking around. “We’ve got your room set up.”

There it is again, another stupid invite…

“It’s not my home, Blake.” I tell her again, for what seems like the umpteenth time. “A place like that, it’s got no room for me.”

“It would.” Blake tells me quietly. “If you wanted a place, it’s waiting for you. Just like it always has. I know you think you’ve been cast aside in all of this, but, that’s not true at all. If it was, I wouldn’t be here.”

“You’re not the person I need to hear that from.”

“Weiss loves you, Ruby, it’s just not the sort of love you want.”

“I know, I’ve made as much peace as I can with that. Honestly, it would be easier if she hated me.” I know she doesn’t. I can’t hate her, either. I tried to feel that way, but that’s impossible. “If you all just hated me, I could finally get some relief from all of this. Instead, you come in here and rub salt in the wound. I still don’t know how I feel about that, by the way.”

“Yet, you’re the one that’s going to walk out that door and headlong into another mission.” Blake bites back softly. “That hurts too.”

I’ll bet it does…

There’s a vindication in hearing the small pain in her voice. It’s a twisted sort of comfort, but, it’s there all the same. I wonder how it feels, being told that she can’t have what she wants. That I can take something she wants away from her, even if it’s just a little thing.

I’ll bet it doesn’t hurt half as much as the way they hurt me...

Knowing that makes me feel a little sick. I really am a horrible person, aren’t I?

It’s wrong to objectify Weiss like that. She’s a person, not a thing to own. I loved her first, though, and that should have been enough…

Why wasn’t I good enough…?

“I’m not the same person I was when all this started, Blake.” I tell her, because really, I’m not. It’s changed me, and I don’t think it’s for the better. “I’m bitter, I’m pissed, and I hurt… I hurt a lot… Worst part of it all is that the one person who should have done something about it, she didn't... She chose to push me off onto you and Yang instead… When that didn’t work, she shoved me onto Winter. I don't know if I can really forgive that.”

“She didn’t have a choice!” Blake bellows, almost a great imitation of Yang.

Almost, but not quite.

She grabs at me, slams me into the nearest wall. It doesn’t hurt. She’s not even trying. She’s have to do more than that to get passed a hunter’s aura. It’s a weak tactic at best. I don’t even know why she tried.

“She wanted to maintain the same relationship she’d always had with you, but you couldn’t accept that answer. That’s not on her, that’s on you.” Blake tells me, leaning into the hold, fury dripping from her voice. It’s cracking against her will, shaking harder than she wants it to. “You _left_ us. That was _your choice_ , Ruby Rose. You don’t get to pin that on Weiss. She didn’t send you away kicking and screaming.”

I know…

It would have been easier if she had…

Why doesn’t Blake understand that?

“She didn’t ask me to stay, either…” I muttered under my breath.

I’m tired.

So… so tired…

“How could she?” Blake whispered then, her grip slackening into it was non-existent. “She completely broke your heart, Ruby. She knew that.” Amber eyes close, and Blake just shakes her head. “How could she ask you to stay for her sake, knowing that?”

I would’ve stayed…

“Come home, Ruby.” Blake says, her eyes closed and voice thick. Falling to her knees and hiding her face in my belly, I hear a sniffle. “Just come home…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things start to get better next arc when a certain meddlesome military specialist and a butler tag decide it's time to lend a hand... but as I said several chapters back, happiness comes hard won, and there's no instant gratification here... 
> 
> The healing process has only just begin.


	35. Piece by Precarious Piece, Part 1/20 (Weiss POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I explained in the"Lives We Lead" most recent update, I was out to the pub with friends, which is why this is a few hours late.

** Piece by Precarious Piece, Part 1/20 (Weiss POV) **

I wake up in bed alone, cocooned snugly in the sheets. I know that this wasn’t how I fell asleep. A messily folded piece of paper sits on my nightstand along with my migraine medication and a tall glass of ice water. Right beside that is a cardboard cup from the coffee shop down the street and a clear plastic box. A square of coffee cake rests inside. It reminds me of the misogynistic jokes I used to hear in the hallways of Beacon whenever somebody had inadvertently upset their girlfriend.

I remember scowling and thinking that there was no way I’d allow someone to throw at box of sweets in my general direction. I thought that I'd always refuse then as an acceptable apology. Then shortly after, Yang and I had our first major fight as teammates. Similarly, I woke up to coffee and cake on my bedside. I remember how angry I was, nearly blinded with rage, until I saw the bill…

No one would be stupid enough to buy my tolerance with free food from Beacon’s cafeteria. Let alone would they think to buy affection or friendship. At the time, I didn’t know if she was trying to insult me further, but it certainly felt that way. The act completely baffled me, until I saw a square box hidden haphazardly under her pillow on her bunkbed. Yang had bought a box of chocolate at first, before she knew how I felt about them and tried to hide it…

It gave me reason to pause, because Yang wasn’t that sort of person. She didn’t insult people quietly, or call them into question under her breath. Her anger never allowed for that, making any disagreement she might have loud and clear.

She tiptoed around me for an entire week like that. Leaving cups of coffee and breakfast at my bedside, because apparently a verbal apology wouldn’t have been good enough. Those had been her words, not mine. The entire week had been ridiculous of course, much like the initial argument had been. I don’t even remember what the whole fight was about, but, I do remember the warm coffee hitting my tongue.

I’d concluded that Yang was, in point of fact, a ridiculous person. I just didn’t know what that said about me, or about the sort of person I was.

Nowadays, Yang and I don’t have the sort of explosive arguments one might expect from our respective tempers. She’s still ridiculous, buying premium coffee from down the street when we have a perfectly good canister in the kitchen. I sigh at length as I undress from yesterday’s clothes. Blake will throw a fit if she catches the scent of office supplies mixed in with the sheets. It’ll all have to go in the laundry.

I strip down myself and the bed. Tossing everything into the hamper. Dressing in a robe, I remake the bed with caramel colored silk sheets. The rich brown color has thin white swirls of white embroidered along each hem. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Yang coming to stand sheepishly in the doorway. Lilac eyes downcast as she sips from her own paper cup.

I don’t know what to say to her. I sit down on the freshly made bed, patting the empty space of sheets beside me. When she joins, we spend a few moments side by side, saying nothing. The only acknowledgement that anything needs to be said at all comes from the fact that we’re both still just sitting here. I don’t know what she’s thinking. I can guess, and I'd still probably be wrong. I can't fault her for tht, either.

 I know the stakes in this gamble have always been higher for her than it ever was for me.

“Weiss, I’m really-”

“Don’t.” I interrupt softly. “Don’t apologize… Don’t do waste your time. I’m not worth it."

And that's just a simple fact...

"Besides, I don’t want to hear it." I go on to say when Yang seems to want to argue the point. I won't let her. "You didn't wrong me, Yang."

Yang looks at me, at a loss for words. I can’t say that I blame her as her hand slowly drifts onto mine. The subdued action is somewhat painful when I realize how little comfort it truly gives, and what little is likely being returned.

It must be agony for her, too.

Her relationship with Blake has been longer lasting, and it holds some form of weight that goes beyond my involvement. That was true before I joined them, and it's true today as well. It strikes me now, to think that what Blake puts on the line in all of this is more than I ever dared. That Yang and Blake are the sorts of people to make bold moves, meanwhile I'm too much a coward to ever do the same. I don’t know if it’s a series of calculated risks, or pure madness, but one thing’s for sure…

“It was easier when it was just sex…” I sigh, opting for the one thing that I know to be true. At least, when in regards to myself. I don’t know about the others.

“Easier how?”

“It just seemed to be that way.” I tell her. “I could make my excuses and live with them. I didn’t have to be apologetic, or even think about the long reaching ramifications of my actions. Quite frankly, there weren’t any. Intercourse was always completely separate from anything else, and, completely closeted.”

“Well, I don’t know about all of that.” Yang rasps out uneasily. A clearing of her throat doesn’t help, either. “You could be right, but, I never thought of it like that. Even when it was just sex, I didn’t think of it as just a benefit.”

“It was more than that to you?”

“Well, not like a whole lot more…” Yang shrugged. “Not at first, but…” She forced a breath out of her lips, as if trying to figure out how best to explain herself. “The opportunity was there. The lines were kind of muddled from the beginning, you being a friend and all.” Yang says quietly, after having giving it some thought. “It wasn’t like you were a complete stranger, so...”

“Maybe, Yang, but there are times like these that I wonder about it all. I tell myself that it’s worth it, but, what if it’s just pomp and circumstance?”

“Do you… think it is?”

“I don’t want it to be.” I say, because I’m too exhausted to say anything more on that subject.

“The way I see it, the only way to find that out is to see how far you go.” Yang murmured, the cup of coffee to her lips, hiding her expression. “If my dad and uncle proved anything to me, it’s that there’s always a breaking point. Infatuation burns fast at both ends. Sucking up everything until there’s nothing left, and then it moves on..."

"What of love, then?"

At first, Yang says nothing. a soft breath escaping her. "Love sticks around until there’s nothing left, and sometimes..." She cleared her throat again, working her jaw with the rest of the statement. "Sometimes it stays long after that. Sometimes it just ends up clinging even when everything’s gone, and that’s not for the best...”

Sentimentality aside, I can see the way she bites down on her lip. “What does that even mean, Yang?”

“That I fucked up.” Yang said quietly. “I fucked up bad, Weiss, and there’s no denying that. I never should have tried to keep Blake away from Ruby. I never should have doubted her, not even for a second…but Ruby and I, we’re all or nothing kind of people. It’s all we know how to be. It’s all dad ever showed us. Uncle Qrow, too."

"I doubt summer was that way."

A snort is the only thing that tells me how annoyed she is by my words, but her expression gentles itself. "I don’t even think she remembers her mom, not really." Another sip of her coffee and a tiny squeeze of her hand that rests open my own. an uneasy sideways glance. All the pieces I need to see how anxious Yang really is. "Hell, even I have trouble separating dad’s stories with my own memory sometimes.”

I bring my cup of coffee to my lips, because something about that makes me uncomfortable. The rich flavor of freshly ground coffee beans lingers heavily on my tongue. It’s like a gentle grounding weight, and one that I sorely needed.

Yang sighs at length, licking her lips and scowling. A tiny shake of her head follows a curse. “I am one hundred percent my father’s daughter. I’m in this, and I’m always going to keep being in this until there’s nothing left…I’m not going to give up on us, I can’t. I don’t even think I’d know how…”

“Me either.” I say, and it’s terrifying how true that is.

I just want Yang to lay back down with me and make this all go away.

A childish whim, I know, but even so…

“Can I apologize now?” She asks, as though she hasn’t already.

My hand tightens beneath hers. It’s just not enough. I don’t want words, I want the instantaneous comfort she can give me.

“Just shut up and hold me. That's apology enough."


	36. Piece by Precarious Piece, Part 2/20 (Blake POV)

** Piece by Precarious Piece, Part 2/20 (Blake POV) **

Ruby went on her mission, and I headed home.

What else could I do? Follow Ruby like a kicked puppy, praying for her pity? The wayward thought had idly crossed my mind. It lingered there in the fog along with everything else. I considered it, I admit that. I thought, maybe, that if I followed her, Ruby would see that it wasn’t a game to me. I considered the possibility that Winter would begrudgingly let me onto the ship if I threw a big enough fit about it.

Those sorts of desperate thoughts are the kind best left to imagination. I didn’t murmur a word of them. I couldn't, so I swallowed them down instead. I bit back the arguments on the tip of my tongue. Each and every one of them more pressing than the last. Trapping my tongue between my teeth was the lesser of so many evils. I put my trust in Ruby. I had to. There wasn't any other choice, logical or heartfelt. I stayed quiet, ultimately allowing all of this to come down to her decision.

My pursuit would end there, on the dock, with an open farewell and a mangled promise that it wouldn’t be the last. I stayed long enough to watch the ship take off. I wouldn’t be lying if I said that it felt like part of me went flying off with her.

Though, I'd never be able to say it, either.

It wasn’t a particularly dangerous mission, but I still held a momentary prayer for Ruby’s safe return. Even then, I was still biting my tongue, clenching my jaw, and refusing to think that Ruby would forget all of this. That she wouldn’t keep what few promises she made to me. I’d like to think she had more honor than that, more pride at the very least.

It was the only comfort I had at that point, I wasn’t about to let go of it.

With my scroll on my pocket, I held a faint hope that Ruby would get into contact after her mission was done. My thoughts drifted to the house I shared with Weiss and Yang. The four walls we had made into a home. I didn’t know what I left behind or what I would arrive to. Walking the chilly streets of Atlas, I didn’t want to dwell on it, either. For most people, it was business as usual. For me, it was anything but that. I wanted to blend in, but each step I took seemed purposeless when compared to everyone else.

The numbing quality in my stride reached my thoughts, and sunk into my actions.

Walking through the door and into the quiet home, I noticed that Weiss wasn’t in her office. Her door was wide open, and she wasn’t there. I found Weiss in the bedroom, tangled in Yang’s arms and wrapped in the sheets. They both looked up at me, but there was no Ruby at my side, and no excuse to give them.

“So, how did it go?” Weiss was the first to speak. She sounded tired, looked it more so.

I found myself crossing my arms awkwardly. “She went on another mission.” I said weakly, I had nothing more than the truth. My own sense pride had been left behind at the docks, thoroughly trampled.

“That’s it?” Yang asked, almost incredulous as she shifted. Sheets rustling as she began sitting up and looking at me. Crimson bleeding into the edges of her eyes, clouding her expression.

I nodded. “We talked, that’s it…”

I can only hope that Yang will believe me. That Weiss won’t hate me. I have nothing to show for my efforts, and that alone makes me feel like all of this might have been worthless.

That I might be…

It's been a long time since I've felt so completely powerless. Without a sense of agency in my own livelihood, and with such an unclear future.

“What'd you talk about?” Yang asks, words clipped and her tone edgy. I don’t have any idea what she’s looking for. It doesn’t matter. She won’t find anything unless she fabricates it. Maybe that's what make her burning gaze so painful. Knowing she's looking for something that wasn't even there to begin with. Knowing she won't find it isn't a comfort, not when I know she's looking in the first place.

“Just... All kinds of stuff." I shrug. "Too many topics to rattle off, and not deep enough into any of them to really matter.” I let out a sigh, but, it doesn’t help. “I got through to her a little, but not nearly as much as I’d hoped.” I murmured stepping into the bedroom leaning heavily on the wall that separated the bedroom and bathroom. “I don’t know what good it did, if anything at all.” I shrug again, because words are a burden. Feeling the burn of two gazes, and the weight of my failure over my shoulders.

Nothing solved, and everything just as broken as when this all started.

“What did she say?” Weiss asked, maybe a fragment of hope in her voice. Squashed down by a whole lot of concern.

“She promised to stay safe… said she’d call… keep in touch with me.” Her word is all I have. I need to hope that’s enough. “That’s pretty much it.”

All I wanted was to fix things…

Impossible as it seemed…

That’s all I wanted…

“I’m going to go wash up.” I say, because I can’t bear to have them both looking at me like that right now. With more questions than I have answers for. Because I can still feel the chill of the Atlesian north on my skin. Evidence of the path I chose to take, and the crushing defeat it cast onto me. Because I can still smell roses clinging to my clothes and draping across my skin. A reminder that she is no longer here, and that she might never be.

I strip off my clothes and run the bathwater.

A tub large enough for three only has two ways it can be looked at; Luxurious, or lonely. There’s really no in-between. Right now, it feels plenty lonely. Like an ocean, as vast as it is deep. This too, is a harsh reminder of everything I’ve built my life around. I deserve it, and all the pain it brings me in this moment to sink into the hot water and be left to the silence.

The final drips from the tap echoing in the space far too large for me.

A lot of the qualities in this home reflect the grandiose standards that we tried to keep in regards to our relationship. Room enough for all, sometimes at the expense of logic. This bathtub is one such example. Our water bill is astronomical. To accommodate three people it comes at a monetary cost. Some might argue that it isn’t environmentally friendly, either.

They’d be right, in more ways than one.

Everything has a cost, it’s just comes down to what we’re willing to spend...

**Author's Note:**

> This fiction will now update on the 10th, 20th, and 30th of every month. This new schedule will suit me better in the long run, since this fiction still has a lot of story left to go, and the chapters are shorter than my other stories on average.


End file.
